Reliance and Resilience
by storylover18
Summary: Someone is targeting the members of the BAU, Jack Hotchner, and Henry LaMontagne by making them sick. Will the team be able to figure out who's doing this to their friends and family before there's tragic consequences? Written late season 5/early season 6. Sick!fic plus Case!fic.
1. A New Parent

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.**

**It's been a long time since I wrote anything in the Criminal Minds fandom but I've been bitten by the bug, it would seem. This is set when Jack is about five, which means it's likely around the end of Season 5/beginning of Season 6 (but before JJ left). I have no idea where this idea came from but I had to write **_**something**_** and this is what happened, more or less. I hope you enjoy it! **

"Daddy?"

Aaron Hotchner turned around from the open files on the kitchen table. The team had just returned from a week-long case in Byron Center, a small Michigan town, and he was behind on paperwork.

"Jack, you should be asleep. It's way past your bedtime."

"I don't feel good."

Aaron frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"My tummy hurts."

To prove his point, Jack's arms snaked around his stomach.

"Do you want something to drink?" Aaron asked. "Some warm milk, maybe?"

Jack nodded.

"Alright, go back to bed and I'll be there in a minute."

Jack went down the hall again and Aaron stood up. He warmed the milk and took the plastic cup into Jack's room.

"Here you go, buddy," he murmured, watching Jack take a few sips before giving the cup back. "No more?"

Jack shook his head and Aaron placed the cup on the bedside table.

"Try to go to sleep," Aaron said, pulling the quilt up around his five-year-old son. "Your tummy will feel better in the morning."

Aaron leaned down to kiss his son's forehead, frowning when he pulled away. He made note of the warm skin and left the room. He got as far as the door before Jack spoke again.

"Can you leave it open a little bit?"

Aaron smiled.

"Sure."

The door left ajar, Aaron went back to the kitchen table and tried to resume working but his focus was gone. He was worried about Jack, though he knew that he had no real reason to be. Kids got sick; it was a simple fact of life. It was probably something he picked up at kindergarten, which likely meant it was nothing serious. Even so, Hotch was concerned. He'd seen his fair share of hospitals and injuries but he wasn't well versed in the art of nursing the sick. Jessica normally took care of Jack but she had just left for a two week vacation that had been booked for almost a year and the BAU agent and lawyer knew the responsibility was on him to make sure Jack was alright.

Deciding it was futile to work anymore, Aaron packed his briefcase and turned the light out. He checked on Jack and climbed into his own bed. Despite having a long day, it took Aaron a long time to fall asleep.

* * *

Aaron woke up at 6:30, as he usually did. He showered and dressed and when he was ready, went to Jack's room. His son was still asleep and Aaron sat on the edge of the bed.

"Jack," he whispered, shaking the tiny shoulder. "Jack, it's time to wake up."

Jack groaned and rolled over, which he did every morning. Aaron chuckled.

"Come on, buddy. You'll be late for school."

"I don't want to go to school, Daddy."

Aaron frowned.

"But you love school. Today is Show and Tell, remember? You were going to bring that magic trick Mr. Reid gave you."

"I don't wanna."

"Why not?"

"I don't feel good."

Jack finally turned over and Aaron saw that his son certainly didn't _look_ well. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes bright and glassy. Immediately, Aaron's hand rested upon the small forehead.

"Does your tummy still hurt?"

Jack nodded.

"Alright," Aaron said with a sigh. "No school today."

* * *

"J.J., I don't know what to do," Aaron said into his phone half an hour later. "Jessica is away."

J.J., who was in her office, raised an eyebrow.

"You take a sick day, Hotch. We can manage one day without you."

"But I'm not sick."

"Fine, take a personal day." J.J. replied. "You know what I mean."

Aaron sighed.

"Hotch …" J.J. hesitated. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Hotch answered immediately.

"Are you sure?" J.J. replied. "Because I'm sure you didn't call me to ask if it was alright to take a day off to stay with your sick son."

Aaron sighed again. Sometimes he hated working with profilers because they saw things he didn't want them to see.

"I'm worried about him." Aaron admitted and J.J. smiled.

"Of course you are," she replied. "It's normal. When Henry had his first fever, Will and I were ready to take him to the emergency room we were so worried."

Hotch smiled.

"How do you get over it?"

"You don't. You just do your best to take care of him and recognize that unless you want Jack living in a bubble, there is nothing you can do to stop him from getting sick once and awhile."

Hotch sighed.

"What I've done doesn't feel like enough."

"Does he have a fever?"

"Yeah, one hundred and one," Hotch replied, glancing at the thermometer, which was still in his hand.

"Have you given him medicine?"

"Some Children's Tylenol."

"What about breakfast?"

"I tried but he won't eat. All he managed was some orange juice before falling asleep again."

J.J. smiled.

"You have nothing to worry about, Hotch."

Aaron frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"You know how to take care of Jack. You've already done everything you can."

"It doesn't feel like enough." Aaron repeated.

"It never does," J.J. said sympathetically. "But it will be."

Outside her window, Rossi signalled her.

"Hotch? I've got to go but call me if you have any problems, alright?"

"Alright. Bye, J.J."

"Bye."

J.J. hung up the phone and went into the hallway.

"What's up?" she asked the agent.

"Do you know where Hotch is? He and I have a meeting to brief Strauss about the case."

"I was just talking to him," J.J. replied. "Jack is sick so Hotch is taking a personal day. I can do the briefing with you."

* * *

Aaron hung up the phone and sighed. Parenting was never easy but it was these moments that got to him the most. He hated not being able to magically make everything all better for his son. Haley always had that magic touch when Jack felt sick – even just a simple tummy ache, Haley always knew how to make it better. Aaron felt the ache deep inside him as he longed for Haley's wisdom and guidance on what to do for their son.

"Daddy?" Jack's voice drifted down the hall.

"Yes?" Aaron left the thermometer next to his phone and went down the hall.

"My tummy hurts," Jack whimpered. Acting purely on instinct, Aaron took his son to the bathroom and not five minute later, Jack threw up.

"It's okay, buddy," Aaron soothed, rocking Jack in his lap. Tears were streaming down his son's face and Aaron reached for a washcloth to wipe them away.

"Does your tummy feel better?"

"No." Jack replied miserably.

"Alright, one second."

Aaron left the bathroom and returned with Jack's pillow, blanket, and a stack of books. He leaned against the wall nearest the toilet, settled Jack on his lap, and began to read.

* * *

The day went by quickly for the members of the BAU and it was almost five o'clock when J.J. found a moment to call Hotch.

"What do you have, J.J.?"

"We're not on a case, Hotch. You could just say hello."

Aaron glanced at Jack before leaving his son's room.

"Sorry," he said. "Force of habit. What's up?"

"I just wanted to see how you two are holding up."

Aaron cradled the phone with one hand and poured a strong cup of black coffee with the other.

"We've had better days."

"How's Jack?"

"Miserable," Hotch answered. "He's been vomiting most of the day."

"Stomach flu?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry," J.J. said. "That _is_ miserable, for you and for him."

"I think we've read every book on his bookshelf at least twice." Hotch replied "I managed to get some more medicine into him and it lasted long enough to take effect. He's sleeping now."

"Good," said J.J. "Has he eaten anything?"

"Nothing," Aaron answered, his own stomach growling at the mention of food. "I kept forcing water on him but it hasn't done much for the fever."

J.J. frowned.

"Have you called the doctor?"

"Not yet," Aaron said, opening the fridge. "I'll call tomorrow if he's still vomiting."

J.J. nodded despite Hotch not being able to see her.

"Do you need anything?"

As she was saying this, Hotch realized that there was next to no food in the fridge. He'd been planning on going to the grocery store that afternoon on his way home from work. He sighed, closing the fridge.

"Hotch?"

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"Is there anything you need?"

"No, thanks."

"Are you sure? You sighed."

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose – another moment to hate having profilers as coworkers.

"I just remembered I need to get groceries," Hotch said. "I meant to do it this afternoon."

"What do you need?" J.J. asked.

"J.J.," Hotch said with a sigh. "You don't need to do my groceries. I'll order them online and they'll be delivered tonight."

"Not at this hour," J.J. insisted. "What do you need? It's on my way."

"No, it's not."

J.J. rolled her eyes.

"It's on _someone_'_s_ way. What do you need?"

Aaron, sensing his blonde co-worker was not going to let this go, sighed.

"The basics are fine for now. Break, milk, juice, eggs."

"What does Jack like to eat when he's sick? Soup? Crackers?"

"I don't know." Aaron said. "He hasn't been this sick since Haley died."

"Well, we'll pick up some soup and crackers just in case. What about fruit, what does he like?"

"Carrots and cucumbers."

"Got it." J.J. said, adding them to the list. "Anything else? Medicine?"

"I just opened a new bottle of medicine so that should be all," Aaron replied. "Thank you, J.J. I really appreciate it."

Having profilers as co-workers could be trying sometimes but there were also times when it paid off and now was definitely one of those times. J.J. smiled on the other end of the line.

"No problem. One of use will be by with groceries soon. In case it's not me, try and have a good night. Get some sleep."

"I'll try," Hotch replied. "Bye, J.J."

He hung up the phone and sighed deeply. Setting his mug on the coffee table, Aaron stretched out on the sofa and was asleep within minutes.

* * *

J.J. left her office, her list in hand, and walked towards the team. They were done work for the day but were still socializing around Reid's desk. Morgan glanced at her as she approached.

"How's Jack?"

J.J. didn't even bother to ask how he'd known she was calling Hotch.

"Miserable," J.J. replied. "He's got the stomach flu."

"Poor kid," Rossi muttered.

"How's Hotch?" Prentiss asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hanging in there," said J.J. "He sounded tired on the phone."

She held up the grocery list.

"He was planning on going to the grocery store this afternoon but never made it. Does anyone mind picking up a few things?"

"I'll go," Morgan volunteered, taking the list from J.J.

"Mind if I tag along?" Garcia asked and Morgan smiled at her.

"'Course not, Baby Girl."

"Great, just let me lock up the office and I'll be ready to go."

Garcia walked away and the group slowly dispersed to various desks to turn off computers, lamps, and pack their bags.

"Are you sure Hotch is alright?" Emily asked J.J., who sighed.

"I'm not sure. He mentioned this is the first time Jack has been this sick since Haley died. He didn't know what Jack would want to eat."

Emily frowned.

"But," J.J. continued. "He did know what fruit Jack liked … I don't know. Maybe I'm reading too much into it but I think Hotch is a little insecure in taking care of Jack when he's so sick."

"It's understandable," Prentiss replied, zipping her purse.

"Is it?" J.J. asked. "Jack is five, it's not like Hotch has never taken care of his son before."

"He probably hasn't," Emily pointed out. "Not like this, anyways. Until now, Haley or Jessica has always been there to take care of Jack if he got sick. Hotch probably feels a little bit like a new parent trying to navigate taking care of his son, even if he is five years old already."

J.J. nodded.

"I suppose. Speaking of children," she said, glancing at her watch. "I'd better get going. Henry and Will are waiting on me for dinner. See you tomorrow, Emily."

"Have a good night."

* * *

"Alright," Morgan said, standing in the check-out line. "Milk, bread, eggs, juice, crackers, soup, carrots, cucumbers … Princess, what's all that?"

Morgan looked at the various items on the conveyer belt that were not on the list.

"Supplies," Garcia said. "Don't you remember being sick as a kid?"

"No." Derek replied as the line inched forward.

"Oh, come on," Garcia exclaimed. "Popsicles? Bendy straws?"

"Nope," Morgan replied.

"You never got a bendy straw when you were sick?" Garcia sounded as though she couldn't believe someone's childhood could be complete without a bendy straw.

"I was lucky if I got to stay home from school when I was sick," Derek replied. "Much less get a bendy straw."

"Oh, Derek."

Garcia looked crushed but Morgan smiled at her.

"It's alright, Garcia. I'm just pulling your leg. I'm sure Jack will love them."

Garcia frowned at Derek, though they both knew she couldn't stay mad at him for long. Together they bagged the groceries and carried them to the car. Derek drove through the dark streets and parked in front of the building.

He and Garcia stood in the hallway, waiting for Hotch to open the door after they knocked but there was no answer. They exchanged a look and Derek tried again.

"It's open!" a faint voice called from inside and Derek cautiously tried the knob. Sure enough, the door swung open.

"Hotch? Is everything alright?" Derek called, reaching for his gun. For Aaron Hotchner to leave his door unlocked was unheard of. The truth was that Hotch knew a member of his team was coming but Jack had called for him. With a tired sigh, Aaron had undone the lock before hurrying down the hall, which was where he still was.

"Fine … well, sort of. We're in the bathroom." Hotch's voice carried down the hall, as did the sound of Jack throwing up.

"Poor Jack," Garcia said, closing the door behind them. She took her grocery bag to the kitchen while Derek slid the chain into the lock.

"Sounds rough," Derek agreed, setting his bag on the table. Garcia busied herself with putting the groceries away and Derek went down the hall. He peered into the bathroom and saw Jack curled up on Hotch's lap.

"Hey, little man," he said, smiling. Jack buried his face in his father's shirt. "How're you feeling?"

"Sick." Jack whispered, rubbing his eyes.

"Do you think you can go back to bed now?" Aaron asked and Jack nodded uncertainly.

"Okay," Hotch stood and Jack laid his head on Aaron's shoulder.

"I'll be right there," Hotch said to Morgan, who nodded. He went back to the kitchen and found Garcia making smoothies.

"What are you doing?"

"Making them dinner," Garcia said. "There's enough for you to have one, too."

"Baby Girl, I don't think Jack will want anything to eat. He just threw up."

"Oh, but I haven't talked to him yet. After I visit him, he'll have finished the whole thing."

"No way." Derek shook his head, amused.

"Yes," Garcia argued back. "I have the magic touch."

"Since when have you been able to get sick kids to eat?"

"It's a piece of cake, if you know how."

"And you do? Know how, I mean?"

"Of course I do. What don't I know?" Garcia teased with a raised eyebrow.

"Fine," Derek said. "Ten bucks says you can't get Jack to finish a smoothie."

"You're on." Garcia said as Hotch came into the kitchen.

"How is he?" Morgan asked, the smiling falling from his face. Hotch fell into the nearest kitchen chair.

"Like he said, sick."

"Here, Sir, have a smoothie." Garcia set a glass down, out of which poked a blue bendy straw.

"No, thanks, Garcia, I - "

"Sir, you need to eat. You've been with Jack all day and this will make sure you stay properly nourished."

Hotch sighed and took a sip of the smoothie, mostly just to make the lab tech happy.

"Do you mind if I go see Jack?" Garcia asked. "I made him one, too."

"You can try," Aaron said. "But he hasn't eaten a thing all day."

Garcia didn't seem deterred by this and took another smoothie – and a handful of straws – down the hall. Morgan shook his head but took the smoothie Garcia had made him and sat across from Hotch.

"Hanging in there?" he asked, slurping through his pink straw. Hotch used the straw to stir the smoothie before taking another sip.

"Barely," he said. "I'm worried about him. He hasn't eaten, can't keep any liquids or medicine down, the fever won't break …"

His voice trailed off.

"He'll be alright, Hotch. It's a simple case of stomach flu."

"I hope that's all it is."

"Come on," Derek said. "When was the last time you had the stomach flu? I'm sure you never felt like eating, either. It doesn't last long and I'm sure he'll be back to his normal self soon."

"I hope so," Hotch replied. "I hate seeing him like this."

"If it makes you feel better, Garcia is sure she can get Jack to eat his smoothie."

"Eating it isn't necessarily the hard part." Hotch said, raising an eyebrow. "Keeping it down is."

* * *

Garcia knocked on Jack's door.

"Hi, Jack," she whispered. "Can I come in?"

Jack nodded and Garcia sat on the edge of the bed.  
"I brought you something," she said, holding out the smoothie. Jack shook his head and Garcia smiled sympathetically.

"Your daddy told me your tummy has been really sore all day. I don't blame you for not wanting to eat. But," she said, a twinkle in her eye, "I brought something that will make it fun."

"What?"

Garcia held up the straws.

"These," she said. "We'll make a game of it," Garcia continued. "First, you put one straw in and take a sip. Then you put another straw in and take another sip. We'll see how many straws we can fit in the cup, alright?"

Jack looked unsure.

"My record is ten," Garcia said mischievously. "Do you think you can beat that?"

Jack shrugged.

"Well, there's only one way to find out," Garcia said with a smile. "What colour do you want first?"

She held out all the straws to Jack and he picked a blue one.

"Good choice," Garcia said, holding the smoothie out. Jack put the straw in.

"One sip." Garcia instructed and Jack did as he was told. "Good job. What colour is next?"

The game progressed and Jack became so focused on getting more and more straws, he didn't realize that all the small sips were slowly draining the cup.

"I think this'll be the last one," Garcia said. "What colour?"

"Purple."

"Excellent." Garcia added the purple straw to the cup and Jack put all the ends in his mouth, taking a final sip. It made a slurping noise, evidence that the smoothie was gone.

"How many straws did you get?" Garcia asked, taking the cup. "I bet you can count them all. Your daddy says you know your numbers."

Jack nodded and counted the straws.

"Twelve!" he exclaimed. "I beat you!"

"Wow, great job! High five!"

Jack gave Garcia a high five, smiling.

"So, what do you think about a nap?" Garcia asked, knowing the next priority was to make Jack forget the fact he just ate a smoothie and the best way to do that would be to go to sleep. "I bet you're pretty tired after that game."

Jack nodded and Garcia tucked him in, taking the cup with her.

"Call if you need anything," she said, winking at him.

Triumphantly, Garcia went into the kitchen and placed the empty cup on the table in front of Morgan.

"What did I tell you?" she said, smiling.

"No way," Morgan said, tipping the cup towards him to make sure it was empty. "Baby Girl, you really are a miracle worker."

"That I am," she said, happily accepting the ten dollar bill Morgan handed her. Hotch looked at her.

"How did you get him to eat all of that? I've been trying all day to get him to eat."

"It's all about how you present it," Garcia replied, sitting down. "If you tell Jack he needs to eat, he won't want to because eating is associated with food, which he'll just throw up again. But if you tell him he's playing a game, he won't realize that he's actually eating. It takes a while but every little sip eventually results in an empty cup."

Hotch smiled.

"Well done," he said. "What's he doing now?"

"Hopefully going to sleep," Garcia replied. "You should do the same, Sir. You look exhausted."

Aaron nodded.

"I am. Thanks again for picking up the groceries."

"No problem, Hotch." Morgan said, standing. "I hope Jack feels better in the morning."

Aaron nodded.

"How much do I owe you?"

"We'll sort it out later," Morgan replied. "For now, just go to bed."

Aaron didn't bother arguing and walked with the agent and lab tech to the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said.

"Maybe," Garcia amended.

"Maybe," Hotch replied, smiling. "Good night."

"'Night."

"Good night, Sir."

Hotch locked the door after Morgan and Garcia left and walked down the hall. Jack was, thankfully, sleeping and unlike the night before, Aaron fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

**I'm not sure how grand this story will become. I have elaborate plans but linking them together could prove challenging but there will be at least one more chapter and we'll see how it goes from there. I'll try and update ASAP but I'm moving halfway around the world in two weeks so paper work and packing is pretty much my life these days. **

**Please review – your comments mean so much to me! **


	2. Everything is Not Alright

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.**

**Hello, everyone! Thank you, as always, for your support and reviews. They never fail to make me smile. I've been battling writer's block for well over a month now and this has managed to escape but I'm not sure I like it. It's uber-fluffy, so be warned. I still have plans to make this much longer but when that happens … who knows? Anyways, enjoy this chapter! **

Aaron hoped that Jack would sleep through the night but he was disappointed. The young boy woke his father by shaking his shoulder around midnight. Hotch let Jack crawl into bed next to him and that arrangement lasted approximately an hour before Jack was rushed to the bathroom. They repeated this cycle – an hour in bed, an hour in the bathroom – several times and when Aaron's alarm went off, he felt like he had gotten no sleep.

"Do I have to go to school, Daddy?" Jack asked miserably as Aaron wiped his face with a cloth. Aaron shook his head.

"No, bud."

"Are you going to work?"

"No, I'm staying here with you."

Jack sighed and Aaron patted him on the shoulder.

"You'll feel better soon, I promise."

Jack sighed again and looked up at his father.

"I feel bad," he said and Aaron tilted his head.

"Why do you feel bad?" He wasn't sure if his son was talking physically or emotionally.

"I don't want you to get in trouble."

"Why would I get in trouble, Jack?"

"Allie's daddy didn't go to work for a whole week and he got into trouble. All he does is sit at home now. Allie says he's sad all the time. I don't want that to happen to you."

"Is Allie someone in your class?"

Jack nodded.

"Trust me, buddy," Aaron said, smiling. "Everyone wants me to stay home and take care of you today. I won't get into trouble."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Jack's face relaxed slightly but Aaron could tell his son was still worried.

"Hey, Jack, why don't we talk to Mom? Would you like that?"

Jack nodded.

"One second," Hotch said, leaving and returning with a lighter. He lit the white candle that sat on Jack's bedside table and handed the boy the glass jar.

"What do you want to say to Mom?" Aaron asked, carefully watching Jack's face. Underneath all the evidence of sickness was intense sadness.

"I miss you," Jack whispered. "I wish you were here, then Daddy could go to work and you could take care of me."

"How does Mom take care of you, Jack?"

"She reads me stories and snuggles with me while watching Franklin and Berenstain Bears."

A tear ran down Jack's face.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Hotch murmured, rubbing Jack's arm. "I know I'm not Mom but we can still do those things. Mom would want us to do them, especially if they help you feel better."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Jack sighed, his eyes locked on the flickering candle.

"I love you," he whispered, blowing the flame out. He turned to his father, who took the cup and pulled Jack into a hug.

"So, what will it be?" Aaron asked. "Books or TV?"

"Can I just go to sleep?"

"Of course. I'll be right down the hall if you need me."

Aaron tucked the blankets around his son, moved the waste bin closer just in case, and kissed Jack's forehead. He paused in the doorway and saw Jack staring at the framed photo of him and Haley that was on his bedside table. With a solemn face Hotch retreated to his bedroom.

* * *

The team gathered in the conference room early that morning.

"Hey, J.J.," Garcia said, coming in with an armful of files. "Any word from Hotch?"

The blonde shook her head.

"No," she said, glancing at Rossi. "Have you heard from him?"

The older agent checked his phone.

"No messages," he answered. "Is there a case?"

Garcia nodded.

"Triple murder in New Mexico. It's the third one in twelve days."

"That's one heck of a streak," Prentiss commented, glancing at her tablet. Garcia turned to J.J.

"What do we do about Hotch?"

"I'll call him," Rossi said and J.J. nodded agreement, relieved she didn't have to be the one to broach the subject. She knew how difficult it was to leave a sick child behind and Hotch's situation was even more difficult given Jessica's absence.

Rossi went into his office, pulling out his phone.

"Hi, Dave," Hotch's exhaustion carried through the phone line and Rossi frowned.

"Are you sure it's not you with the stomach flu?" he greeted his friend. "You sound terrible."

Aaron wiped his eyes, grateful that Dave couldn't comment on how he looked.

"I'm fine," he muttered. "Or I will be once Jack is better."

"How is he?"

"Not worse but certainly not better. I'm going to call the pediatrician as soon as their office opens."

"How are you holding up?"

"I'm tired. We've been up most of the night."

Rossi raised an eyebrow.

"That wasn't exactly what I was asking, Aaron."

Aaron knew there was very little point in hiding his feelings.

"I've been better," he replied. "Nothing I'm doing helps and Jack wants Haley."

"I'm sure you're doing everything you can." Rossi assured his friend. "I know it may not seem like it but Jack doesn't need you to be Haley; he needs you to be his dad."

Aaron sighed, glancing at the clock.

"It's awfully early for a social call," he said, switching the subject. "What's going on? Is there a case?"

"There is …" Rossi's voice trailed off. "But I think you'd better sit this one out. Jack needs you more than we do."

"Where is it?"

"New Mexico. Triple murder."

Aaron raised an eyebrow.

"Any patterns in victimology?"

"I'm not saying anything more, Hotch." Rossi said firmly. "You are not coming; you need to be with Jack."

Aaron smiled slightly.

"I wasn't going to suggest I come," he said.

"Then why did you ask?" Rossi shot back. "I know you, Aaron. Trust me, you'll be of more use to your son."

"I'm not sure if I should be offended by that."

"You shouldn't be," Rossi replied. "We'll sort out New Mexico with or without you but you're the only one who can help Jack."

Hotch smiled.

"Thanks, Dave."

"Don't mention it."

"You know how to reach me if you need to."

"We won't," Rossi replied. "But Garcia is here if you need anything. Tell Jack we all hope he's feeling better."

"I will. Have a safe flight."

Rossi hung up the phone and returned to the conference room.

"How's Jack?" Garcia asked.

"Same as yesterday," the agent reported. "Hotch is going to call the doctor this morning which means he won't be joining us."

"In that case," Morgan said, assuming command. "Baby Girl, what do we have?"

* * *

Hotchner tossed his phone onto the bed beside him and rubbed his eyes again before walking down the hall. Jack wasn't asleep but rather staring blankly past the photograph. Aaron sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hey, bud," he said, smiling. Jack managed a weak smile back.

"How's the stomach?"

Jack shrugged.

"Do you want some breakfast? I can make you a smoothie like Miss Garcia made."

Jack shook his head.

"Maybe later?"

Jack nodded and sighed.

"Alright," Aaron agreed. "I just got off the phone with Uncle Dave."

"Are you going away?"

"No," Hotch said. "I'm staying right here with you."

"And you won't get in trouble?"

"Not a bit," Aaron replied. "Uncle Dave made me promise I would stay with you instead of going to work."

"Really?"

"Yep." Hotch nodded. "And he said to tell you that the entire team hopes you feel better."

"Oh."

Jack sighed again and Aaron frowned slightly.

"Do you want to watch a movie?"

"No."

"What about a book?"

"No."

Hotch sighed.

"What do you want to do?"

"Can you tell me a story about Mommy?" Jack requested and Aaron smiled. He went to the other side of the bed and lay down, Jack curling up next to him.

"Alright," Hotch began. Before he could finish the story of how he and Haley met, Jack was fast asleep.

* * *

By afternoon, Aaron could tell Jack was getting uncomfortable and Hotch had just gotten off the phone with the pediatrician.

"Jack?" he asked, going down the hall. "We're going to take a little trip," he said, opening a dresser drawer for a clean shirt.

"Where?" Jack asked sleepily.

"The doctor's."

"I don't wanna."

Hotch turned around, a fresh t-shirt in his hand, and raised an eyebrow.

"The doctor will help you feel better."

"I don't wanna go."

"Why not?"

"Doctors are stupid."

"Jack," Hotch warned.

"I don't wanna go!"

Before Hotch could do anything, Jack ran out of the room and locked himself in the bathroom. Aaron followed, tried the knob, and sighed.

"Jack," he said firmly. "Open the door."

"Only if you promise I don't have to go."

"I can't promise you that," Aaron replied. "The doctor is just going to make sure that everything is alright."

"Everything is not alright." Jack answered and his father frowned.

"What do you mean?" he asked, pressing his ear against the door.

"It's not alright," Jack mumbled, his voice clearly weaker than a moment earlier. Aaron heard what he thought were sobs.

"Jack?" Hotch asked in a softer voice. "Jack, can you please open the door for me?"

"I don't want to go." Jack repeated.

"Jack, please open the door and we can talk about this."

"I don't want to go!"

Aaron felt himself getting frustrated, which was slightly absurd. He successfully negotiated with socio and psychopaths and yet he couldn't get his five-year-old son to open the door. The one difference was that unlike his job, Hotch literally had the key to this situation. Leaving the bathroom door, Hotch went to the kitchen and pulled open the second drawer down. He found the small bathroom key in a dish of rubber bands, thumbtacks, and twist-ties and returned to the door. He put the key in the lock and the door swung open to reveal Jack dry heaving, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

"Jack," Hotch murmured, kneeling next to his son and pulling him to his chest once he was done vomiting.

"I don't want to go." Jack whimpered, exhausted by the effort. Aaron reached over to the sink and got the still-damp cloth, using it to wipe Jack's face. He carried his son back to his room and sat on the bed with him.

"It's alright, Jack. I'm not angry," Aaron began. "But I want to know why you don't want to go to the doctor. You've been there before and it's never been a problem."

"I don't need to." Jack mumbled, not making eye contact with his father.

"Yes, you do. You're sick. Doctors are there to make us better when we're sick, you know that."

Jack didn't say anything.

"You said that everything is not alright. What did you mean by that?"

Jack sighed.

"It's not alright," he said. "Mommy never made me go to the doctor."

"Oh, I see," Aaron replied. "You don't want to go to the doctor because Mom knew how to make it better without the doctor's help. And now that Mom's not here, everything's not alright. Is that it?"

Jack nodded miserably and Aaron sighed.

"Jack," he said. "If Mom were here, I think she'd want you go to the doctor."

"How do you know?"

Aaron smiled.

"Mom would want you to go because she'd be worried about, just like I am. She'd want to make sure everything was okay inside your tummy and doctors can do that. You've never been this sick before, Jack, and we need to make sure it's just the flu and not something more serious."

Jack finally looked up at his father.

"My tummy hurts."

"I know it does, buddy, but the doctor can tell us the best way to help your tummy. What do you say?"

Jack nodded.

"Okay."

Aaron smiled and kissed the still-too-warm forehead.

"That's my brave boy," he said. "Mom would be proud of you, Jack. Now, let's get you cleaned up and ready to go."

* * *

An hour later, Jack was sitting on Hotch's lap in the doctor's office. A nurse pulled the thermometer from his mouth, glanced at the reading, and noted it in the computer.

"The doctor will be with you shortly," she said, leaving the room. Jack leaned against Aaron's chest.

"Is your tummy alright?"

There had been an incident on the drive over, one which would result in an interior cleaning of the car later on. Jack nodded but his eyes were closed. Luckily, the doctor appeared a few moments later. He gently examined Jack before talking with Aaron.

"You have nothing to be overly concerned about," he said, smiling.

"So it is just the flu?"

The doctor nodded.

"Yes," he said. "Though it appears to be a rather aggressive strain."

"Is there anything we can do to make Jack more comfortable?"

The doctor shook his head.

"I'm afraid not," he answered. "The usual things – bed rest, fluids, medicine – are the key to conquering this."

He glanced at Jack, smiling. Jack did not smile back.

"Can you do something for me, Jack?" the doctor asked and Jack shrugged. "I need you to eat as much as you can right now. I know your tummy hurts but food is how our bodies get energy to fight off germs. Do you think you can do that?"

Jack didn't respond and the doctor glanced at Aaron.

"I'll keep encouraging it," he told the doctor. "Is there any indication how long the flu will hold on? When can I send him back to school?"

"It varies, of course," the doctor replied. "But another two days or so and I think Jack will begin to feel better but it could take almost a week for him to be back to his normal self. As for school, he can go back after his temperature is normal for twenty-four hours."

"Thank you, Doctor." Hotch said.

"Of course." The doctor said, smiling at Jack. "I hope you feel better, Jack."

"Say thank you, Jack."

"Thanks." Jack's voice was hardly audible and Aaron sensed his son was falling asleep. The doctor nodded at Aaron again before leaving the room.

"Good job, buddy," Hotch said, kissing Jack's forehead. "Come on, let's go home."

* * *

Later that evening, Jack's fever had gone up and he was sleeping restlessly. Aaron leaned against the door frame, frowning as he watched. Soup and crackers hadn't gone well but at least Jack had eaten something. With a deep sigh, he left the bedroom and went to the kitchen. He glanced at his phone, noting Dave had tried to call him earlier.

"Aaron," Dave greeted cheerfully when Hotch dialled his friend. "How's Jack? What did the doctor say?"

"It's the flu," Hotch replied. "But it's one of those strains that's like the flu on steroids."

"Poor Jack. How's he feeling?"

"Terrible. His fever spiked about an hour ago. Whenever he's not throwing up, he's sleeping."

"Yikes."

"Yeah," Aaron said with a thin smile. "That about sums it up. How's the case going?"

"It's progressing."

"Progressing as in more bodies?"

"Unfortunately."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No." Rossi answered firmly.

"Dave, please. I'm going crazy here, I need to do something."

"Sleep. You sound exhausted."

"I can't sleep. Jack needs me."

Rossi sighed.

"Trust me, Aaron. Working on a case is not the thing you need right now."

"Then what is?"

Aaron heard commotion in the background.

"I don't know but I'll call you back."

The line went dead before Hotch could reply.

* * *

The commotion at the precinct turned out to be nothing more than a rowdy DUI, though his timing was impeccable as far as Rossi was concerned.

"Fount of knowledge, how may I help you?"

"Garcia," Rossi said into the phone. "I have a favour to ask."

"Shoot."

"I just got off the phone with Hotch,"

"How's Jack?" Garcia interrupted.

"Not well," Rossi answered. "Neither of them are."

"Hotch isn't sick, is he?"

"No, but he's exhausted. Jack keeps waking up and at this rate, Hotch is going to be flat on his back before long."

"What do you want me to do, Sir?"

"Call Kevin and see if he can come to the office for a few hours. If he can,"

"I'll head over straightaway," Garcia replied. "Penelope Garcia's baby-sitting service is at your service."

"Thanks, Garcia. And listen, don't let Hotch talk you out of this. Tell him to take it up with me."

"Got it."

* * *

An hour later, Hotch was woken by a knock at the door. Frowning, he stumbled off the couch, checking his watch. He peered through the peep-hole and sighed.

"Garcia, what are you doing here?" he asked, letting the lab tech in. "You need to be working the case."

"Kevin is at the office," Garcia replied. "And, forgive me for saying this, Sir, but you look awful."

Hotch raised an eyebrow but he knew it was true. He likely had bags under his eyes and he hadn't shaved today.

"What are you doing here?" he asked again, noting Penelope was sporting an overnight bag. "Why do you have your go-bag?"

"Because," Garcia replied, taking of her coat. "I am going to take care of Jack tonight so you can get some sleep."

"That's not necessary."

"I beg to differ."

"Garcia."

"Sir."

Aaron sighed.

"Rossi put you up to this, didn't he?"

"Yes," Garcia replied. "And he said I shouldn't let you bully me out of it and if you have any problems to take it up with him."

Jack's voice carried down the hall. Hotch, still groggy from his nap, wasn't quick enough and Garcia reached the bedroom first. Jack was clutching his waste basket.

"It's alright, Jack," Garcia said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed. She took the bin away once Jack was done. "Well, I bet that was no fun."

Jack shook his head.

"Hey, Jack," Garcia said, smiling at him. "Would it be okay I took care of you tonight so your daddy can get some sleep? We don't want him to get sick, too."

Jack glanced at Aaron, who was in the doorway, and then back at Garcia. He nodded and Penelope looked pointedly at her boss.

"You heard him," she said. "Off to bed with you."

"Come and get me if you need anything," Hotch said with a sigh. "Goodnight, Jack."

"'Night, Daddy."

Hotch went to his bedroom and dialled Rossi again.

"You sent Garcia to take care of my son?"

"Yes," Rossi replied.

"Why? I'm capable of taking care of him when he's sick."

"I didn't say you weren't." Rossi replied. "But you're wearing yourself out. Garcia was more than happy to do it and Kevin is at the office. There's no reason why we couldn't help you."

Hotch sighed.

"Fine," he said. "I suppose I'll go to sleep, since everyone is convinced I need to."

"You do. Goodnight, Aaron."

"'Night, Dave."

**As I said, uber-fluffy. But cute nonetheless. The one thing that really bothers me is not knowing what Jack would call the members of the BAU. We know he calls Rossi "Uncle Dave" but it didn't sound right to have any of the others as aunt/uncle. Anyone have an opinion/insight?**

**Please review =) **


	3. Coincidence?

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds. **

**Alright, this is officially going somewhere! I had a moment of brilliance while eating lunch and all those pieces I mentioned … yeah, they've come together beautifully. Thank you, as always, for your reads and reviews and I hope you enjoy the chapter =) **

Much to his surprise, Hotch slept till his alarm rang the next morning. He hadn't anticipated being able to rest comfortably given he was used to listening for Jack. The SSA washed up and dressed before leaving his bedroom. The strong smell of coffee wafted down the hallway from the kitchen but he went to Jack's room first. The door was slightly ajar and the light off but Hotch could make out his son sleeping peacefully.

"Garcia?" he asked, continuing down the hall to the kitchen. Garcia looked up from a bowl of oatmeal and smiled.

"Good morning, Sir," she said. "How did you sleep?"

"Really well," Hotch replied, pouring himself coffee. "How's Jack?"

"Much better. The fever broke around three a.m. and after throwing up at four, he fell asleep. Did you check on him?"

Aaron nodded, sitting across from the lab tech.

"He's still sleeping."

"Good," Garcia said. "Hopefully when he wakes up, I can get him to eat something again."

"Again? Did he eat after I went to bed?"

"Yes," Penelope replied, standing. "He managed some dry toast. Can I get you some oatmeal, Sir?"

"You don't need to, Garcia."

"I insist."

Garcia began preparing another bowl of oatmeal.

"There you are, Sir. A hot and hearty breakfast."

"Thanks. Have you been up all night?"

Garcia nodded, sitting down again.

"You should head home, then." Aaron told her. "Get some sleep yourself."

"Oh, I'm fine. All-night gaming sessions have been good training for this job, plus we pull so many all-nighters with cases that I'm used to it."

Hotch smiled.

"That may be," he said. "But don't feel you need to stay here. I've got things under control."

"I know you do, Sir. Jack was telling me about how you convinced him to go to the doctor, and about the story you told him with Haley."

A strange sensation went through Aaron. He wasn't used to his team knowing personal things about his and Jack's relationship. It wasn't that he hid them, he just didn't openly share. To hear his lab tech talk about Haley felt foreign.

"He misses her," Aaron said. "Especially now. I've never had to fill this role for him."

"I know," Garcia said with a gentle smile. "But you're doing wonderfully, Sir. Jack said he felt better when you were talking with him about Haley."

"Really?"

Garcia nodded and Aaron smiled.

"Thanks, Garcia."

"You're welcome."

From the side pocket of her bag came a vibrating text-alert. Garcia retrieved the phone and frowned as she read the text.

"Everything alright?" Hotch asked.

"What? Oh, yeah, fine."

Aaron raised an eyebrow.

"Garcia."

"It's nothing," Garcia said, pocketing the device and smiling again. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay? I don't mind."

"It's fine," Hotch said. "But thank you."

Garcia began gathering her bags. Hotch watched her, knowing something in the text message had upset her but he didn't push the issue. Instead, he stood and handed Garcia her book, which she'd been reading as she ate.

"Thanks," Garcia stuck the book in her handbag. "Call me if you need anything else," she added.

"Thank you for everything," he said, following her to the door. "Are you sure everything's alright?"

"I'm sure." Garcia replied. "Have a good day, Sir."

"You, too."

Hotch closed the door after Garcia left, puzzled. Abandoning his breakfast, Hotch found his own phone and checked for messages. There weren't any so he called J.J.

"Hotch," she greeted. "How are you?"

"Fine," Hotch answered. "Did you just text Garcia?"

"I didn't," J.J. answered.

"Did anyone on the team?"

"I don't think so. Why?"

"She was here last night taking care of Jack but she just got a text and left suddenly."

"Did she say anything was wrong?"

"She said it was nothing but she was lying."

"I don't know," J.J. replied. "Do you want me to call her?"

"Yeah, make sure she's alright."

There was a beep on the line and J.J. glanced at her phone.

"I've got another call coming in," she said. "But I'll get in touch with Garcia."

"Thanks."

Hotch ended the call and returned to the table, sipping his coffee. He was glad Jack was finally getting some sleep and it made him happy - happier than he had let on with Garcia - that Jack felt his dad was doing a good job.

* * *

"Will?" J.J. answered the incoming call.

"Hey, darling," Will answered in his southern drawl.

"Is everything alright?" J.J. immediately asked. Will didn't call while they were on a case unless something was wrong and the sigh that followed did nothing to ease J.J.'s worrying.

"Henry's sick."

"Sick with what?"

"I don't know. Flu, I guess. He's got a temperature of a hundred and two."

"Did you call the doctor?"

"Yeah, he said to give it a day and call back tomorrow if he still had a fever."

"Has he eaten anything?"

"Nothing. He's thrown up, though."

J.J. rubbed her forehead.

"You're supposed to have meetings all day, aren't you?"

"I am," Will replied. "I didn't want to worry you so I texted Penelope, asking what I should do. She said that she'd take care of Henry today."

J.J. sank into a chair, understanding now why Garcia had left Hotch's place so quickly.

"The case isn't going well," she said. "I don't know when I'll be home."

"It's alright, love. After today, my schedule is clear so I can stay with him."

"Garcia said she didn't mind?"

"No, she said it was no trouble at all, which surprised me. Why isn't she working the case?"

"Jack Hotchner is also down with the flu," J.J. explained. "Garcia was there last night to give Aaron a hand with him. Kevin is working the case with us."

"Do you think Henry got sick from Jack?"

"Maybe," J.J. answered. "I suppose Hotch and I could have spread the germs."

"Well, it doesn't matter how he got it. I'm sure he'll be fine."

J.J. heard the doorbell in the background.

"Oh, that must be Garcia. I'll call you later, J.J. Love you."

"Love you, too." J.J. said, ending the call. She immediately called Hotch back.

"Hotchner."

"It's me," J.J. said. "I know where Garcia went off to so quickly."

"Where?"

"My place. Apparently Henry's caught the flu as well and Will has meetings all day. She volunteered to take care of him today."

"That's not what I was expecting to hear," Hotch replied. "It's a bit strange, isn't it?"

"What? Both of our sons getting the flu in the same week?"

"Yeah."

"Probably not as strange as we'd like to think. Kids are susceptible to viruses more than adults are and you and I probably acted as carriers between them."

"I suppose," Hotch said.

"I'll talk to Garcia but I'm sure Henry will be fine. Jack, too," she added.

"I'm sure, too."

"I'll check in later."

"Alright. Talk to you then."

Hotch ended the call, feeling uneasy. It seemed like too big of a coincidence that Henry had the flu as well but J.J. had a valid point. Kids picked up illnesses like dogs picked up scents. Jack had probably gotten sick from school and before Hotch knew his son was contagious, he spread the germs at work. J.J. likely had a strong enough immune system to combat it but when she went home, Henry got it from her. Trying to convince himself it was just part of nature, Hotch went down the hall to check on Jack. He could immediately tell that the fever had returned.

"Jack?" he whispered, feeling the little boy's head. It was hot and dry. Jack didn't wake up and Hotch retrieved a cloth from the bathroom and began sponging the small face.

* * *

J.J. was sitting in the conference room, deep in thought, when Prentiss came in.

"Everything alright?" she asked, opening a protein bar. J.J. looked up.

"I just got off the phone with Will," she said. "Henry's got the flu."

"Him, too?"

"Yeah," J.J. answered. "It makes sense, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Henry probably got sick from Jack through Hotch and I … that makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Yes." Emily nodded. "You know what kids are like; they get sick at the drop of a hat."

J.J. nodded but didn't look convinced.

"Garcia is staying with him," she informed her friend. "Will has to be away all day."

"That's nice of her. How is Jack? Did you talk to Hotch?"

"Yeah," J.J. answered. "But I didn't actually ask how Jack was. He and I were talking about how Henry got sick."

"Do you think it's more than a coincidence?"

J.J. sighed.

"I don't know."

* * *

Will had left for his meetings almost as soon as Garcia had arrived. He showed her where the medicine was, thanked her, and left. Garcia, who was beginning to feel tired and slightly overwhelmed, went to Henry's room.

"Hi, Henry," she said with a smile and the three-year-old waved listlessly. "Your daddy tells me your tummy hurts."

Henry nodded.

"Well," Garcia said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I know just the thing for an upset tummy."

"What?"

"A special Penelope-Garcia-Super-Duper-Awesome-Make-You-Feel-Better-Smoothie. How does that sound?"

Henry shrugged and Garcia sighed.

"Oh, I know, sweetheart," she said, brushing his blonde hair back. "Do you think you can at least try it?"

Henry nodded.

"That's my boy," Garcia said, kissing Henry. "Do you want to stay in bed or lounge on the couch?"

"Couch."

"Okay."

Garcia lifted Henry out of bed and settled him of the couch, tucking the blanket around him and handing him the remote.

"Find something to watch," she said. "And I'll start on that smoothie."

* * *

It was a rough day for Jack and Henry.

"I don't understand," Hotch said to Rossi later that evening. "It's like Jack is getting worse."

"What do you mean?"

"The doctor said it might take a few days for him to feel better but his fever is going up and he keeps vomiting even though there's nothing there tothrow up."

Rossi frowned.

"Is he sleeping?"

"Not really," Hotch replied. "He's camped out in the bathroom, afraid to go back to bed."

"And I bet he hasn't been eating, either?"

"We've managed a few popsicles and about half a water bottle."

"What are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you going to take him to the ER?"

"I don't know. I've thought about it but the doctor said it was just the flu."

"It's your decision," Rossi said. "But I'm sure you're thinking about how dehydrated he's getting between the fever and the dry heaving."

"I am," Hotch said with a sigh. "But I was hoping you could tell me what to do."

"Have you asked Jack what he wants to do?"

"No, I didn't want to scare him."

"Daddy!" Jack's voice carried down the hall and Aaron instantly knew something was wrong.

"Call me back." Rossi said immediately, clearly having heard Jack's cry. Aaron dropped his phone on the table and ran down the hall.

"What's wrong, Jack?"

He didn't need to ask. A thin trail of blood was running down Jack's chin.

"It's alright," Hotch said, trying to downplay his reaction. He knelt next to Jack and wiped the blood away with a Kleenex.

"Am I going to die?"

"No, buddy," Aaron replied. "Will you be alright for a minute?"

Jack nodded and Hotch left the bathroom, picking up his phone again.

"Is everything alright?" Rossi answered on the first ring.

"No," Hotch replied. "He's vomiting blood. I'm going to take him to the ER."

"I think that's a wise decision."

Hotch uttered a shaky sigh.

"Are you alright, Aaron?"

"I'm scared, Dave. Something is happening to Jack and I don't know what."

"That why we have doctors. They'll figure out what's going on."

Hotch sighed again.

"Can I talk to Jack?" Dave asked.

"Sure," Aaron replied, walking down the hallway. "Jack? Uncle Dave wants to talk to you."

Aaron gave Jack the phone and left to gather what he'd need to take to the hospital.

"How are you doing, Jack?"

"What's going to happen to me, Uncle Dave?"

"Your daddy is going to take you to the doctor again." Dave said. "Can you do something for me, Jack?"

"Uh-huh."

"Can you put on your brave face for your daddy?"

"Is he scared?"

"A little bit," Dave answered. "And that's okay but seeing how brave you are will help him be brave, too."

"Can I be scared?"

"Of course you can," Dave answered. "Do you remember what I told you about bravery?"

"That it's okay to be scared but you gotta keep moving forward."

"Right." Dave said, smiling. "So do you think you can wear your brave face?"

"Yes."

"Good job," Dave said. "I'm proud of you, Jack."

"Are you going to be home soon?"

"Soon," Dave replied. "And I promise I'll come see you as soon as I am. Is that okay?"

"Yes."

"Good. I love you, Jack."

"I love you, too."

"Jack? Is Uncle Dave still on the phone?" Hotch asked, coming back into the bathroom. Jack nodded and handed the phone back to his dad.

"Dave?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Keep us posted, alright?"

"I will."

Aaron ended the call and picked Jack up.

"We're going to the hospital, aren't we?"

"Yes," Aaron said, carrying Jack towards the living room. "Is that okay?"

"Yes." Jack said, remembering what Uncle Dave had told him. Aaron smiled and kissed Jack's cheek.

"Alright," he said. "Let's go then."

* * *

"How is he?" J.J. asked Garcia.

"Sleeping," Garcia replied, yawning.

"How's the fever?"

"Still at one-oh-two but he hasn't thrown up in a few hours."

"That's good, I suppose," J.J. replied, glancing at her watch. "Will should be home soon."

"Okay," Garcia said, yawning again. J.J. smiled.

"You must be exhausted. When did you last get any sleep?"

"What day is it?" Garcia asked.

"Wednesday."

"Oh. Then … Monday, I think. I don't know."

"Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," Garcia said. "Just tired."

"Thank you, again, for looking after Henry."

"Don't mention it," Garcia said. "After all, what are fairy-godmothers for?"

J.J. laughed but stopped when Rossi come into the room, looking concerned.

"I'll call you back in a minute, Garcia," she said, hanging up. "Rossi, what's wrong?"

"Hotch is taking Jack to the hospital."

"What?"

"He's vomiting blood; they're on their way to the ER now."

"What happened?"

Rossi shrugged.

"Hotch just said he kept getting worse. His temp went up and he can't keep anything down."

"That's concerning. Is Hotch alright?"

"He's worried, to say the least. He's going to call as soon as he knows anything."

J.J. sighed.

"I wish we were there, for both Jack and Henry."

"So do I," Rossi said. "But we're needed here. The best we can do is work extra-hard to solve the case and then we can go home."

"Yeah, just let me call Garcia back and I'll be right in."

Rossi nodded and proceeded to the conference room and J.J. dialled the lab tech again.

"Everything alright, buttercup?" Garcia asked.

"No," J.J. said. "Hotch is taking Jack to the ER."

"What happened?"

"He's vomiting blood."

"Oh," Garcia was speechless. "I … I have get to the hospital. As soon as Will gets home, that is."

J.J. looked at her watch again.

"It should be any minute. Let us know how he is, alright?"

"Of course. Bye, J.J."

Garcia was pacing when Will came home. She rushed to explain how Henry was and what had happened before heading to the hospital.

"Excuse me," she said to the nurse at the desk.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, I'm looking for Jack Hotchner. He was brought in by his father."

"Are you family?"

"No, but - "

"I'm sorry, but only immediate family is allowed to visit in the emergency department."

The nurse looked back at her computer screen, unaware she had said the wrong thing to a tired and overprotective Garcia.

"Excuse me," she said again and the nurse looked up, annoyed. "But I need to see him."

"I told you, only immediate family - "

"That's not acceptable!" Garcia exclaimed, pulling out her FBI badge. "That little boy's mother is dead and I'm the closet thing he has to family besides his father. I work for the FBI and have the ability to hack into your computer system and put notes on your files for not cooperating with the federal government. So," she said, resuming her sweet voice. "I need to see Jack Hotncher."

The nurse looked slightly intimated but nodded.

"This way," she said.

"Thank you."

The nurse led Garcia through a maze of curtain-created hallways, stopping outside of one and pushing the curtain open slightly.

"Mr. Hotchner, there's a woman from the FBI here to see you."

The nurse moved the curtain out of the way and Garcia stepped forward.

"Garcia, what are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry, Sir, but J.J. called me and I came as soon as Will got home."

"Would you like me to call security?" the nurse asked and Aaron shook his head.

"No, it's fine."

The nurse nodded and left and Aaron raised an eyebrow at the lab tech.

"She wasn't going to let me in," Garcia said with a shrug and Hotch shook his head but there was a small smile on his face. Garcia smiled back and turned to Jack.

"How are you feeling, Jack?"

"Okay." Jack mumbled, his eyes barely open.

"They gave him a sedative," Hotch replied. "And they're hydrating him through the IV while we wait for blood work to come back."

Garcia nodded.

"Do you mind if I wait with you?"

"Of course. How's Henry?"

Garcia sank into a chair opposite Hotch's.

"About the same as Jack was the first night Morgan and I came."

Hotch sighed, watching Jack's breathing.

"It's terrifying," he said absently. "Watching your child be so sick and not being able to do anything about it."

"They'll be fine, Sir. Both of them."

Hotch glanced at Garcia.

"I want to believe you," he said. "And I know I should but until I know what's wrong with him, I'm going to worry."

Garcia didn't have an answer for that and the two of them lapsed into silence, watching Jack sleep.

**Your reviews are very appreciated, thanks! **


	4. Diagnosis

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.**

**Hi, everyone! I hope you're doing alright. I'm so excited about this story now that I have a plan. Thank you, as always, for your generous and kind reviews. **

"Garcia," Hotch shook the lab tech's shoulder and the young woman jumped.

"I'm awake, I promise I'm awake."

She glanced up at Hotch, whose eyebrow was arched but he was smiling.

"How's Jack?" Garcia asked, glancing at the sleeping boy. "What time is it?"

"It's almost midnight," Hotch answered. "You just missed the doctor."

"Why didn't you wake me? What did he say?"

"Because you're exhausted," Aaron replied. "And they're admitting Jack."

"Oh no," Garcia exclaimed. "What's wrong with him, do they know?"

"They're not entirely sure yet but they think it's some sort of avian or swine flu. They're doing more tests."

"Avian or swine flu?" Garcia repeated, looking at Jack. "But … but … _how_?"

"They don't know yet," Hotch said. "Hence the tests."

Garcia didn't take her eyes off Jack, who looked far too small for the hospital bed.

"Penelope. Go home and get some sleep."

"No, Sir, I want to stay with him."

"He's sedated. He won't be waking up till morning and you've been taking care of sick kids for almost twenty-four hours. You told me I needed to eat because I'd been exposed to Jack all day and the same is true for you. Go home and go to bed."

"Are you going to stay with him?"

"Of course." Hotch replied. "And I promise I'll call if anything changes."

Garcia stood slowly and went to Jack's side. She kissed his forehead and smiled at him before facing Hotch again.

"Promise?"

"I promise. Goodnight, Garcia."

"Goodnight, Sir."

Penelope left the hospital and drove home, falling into bed without changing or taking off her makeup. She pulled her sleep mask on and put earbuds in to channel soothing music. She was asleep within minutes.

* * *

After Garcia left, Hotch watched two orderlies move Jack up to the children's ward and into a private room.

"There's a quarantine sign," he said to the nurse in the room. "Is Jack contagious?"

"It's a precaution at this point," the nurse replied. "Until we know what sort of flu Jack has, we don't want to expose any other patients to him."

"May I stay?"

"Of course," the nurse replied. "You've already been exposed so there's no reason to keep you away. I'm sure Jack will want his dad, especially when he wakes up."

"Thank you." Hotch said, sinking into the visitor's chair. The nurse and orderlies left and Hotch sighed. The sickness that had made him so uncomfortable was no longer something some soup and a few days in bed could cure; the doctors didn't know what was making his son so sick and that was a terrifying notion. When the people who were supposed to be experts in the field were at a loss, Hotch knew the outcome was rarely good.

Aaron forced his eyes closed and took a deep breath, trying to get his thoughts under control. Jack was going to be fine; the doctors weren't out of options, they just needed more tests. It would be fine.

Once he felt a little more composed, Aaron glanced at the closed door before slipping his shoes off. He got onto the bed and pulled Jack towards him, falling asleep holding his son.

* * *

"Let me see him."

"I'm sorry but the room is under quarantine. I can't let you in there, you'll be exposed."

"Like hell you can't."

Aaron forced his eyes open, sure he was dreaming. The door opened and a triumphant Rossi strode in.

"Dave," Hotch said, sitting up and glancing at his watch. "What are you doing here? It's six-thirty. What about the case?"

"Taken care of," Rossi replied. "And we came straight home. How is he?"

Hotch glanced at Jack, who was still sleeping. The IV was dripping steadily into his arm and he appeared to be resting comfortably.

"Sedated at the moment," Hotch replied, feeling Jack's forehead. Despite the constant hydration, it was warmer than ever.

"What do the doctors think?"

"They're running tests but they think it's some sort of avian or swine flu."

"How would Jack get that?"

"I don't know. How did you get in here? The room's under quarantine."

"I promised Jack I'd visit him as soon as I got home. A sign on a door was not going to make me break my promise."

Hotch smiled.

"Are we allowed to leave? I could sure use a cup of coffee."

"It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission," Rossi replied, nodding towards the door. "You go, I'll stay here in case he wakes up."

"Thanks."

Aaron got of the bed and left the room, glancing over his shoulder as he entered the hallway - even better than asking for forgiveness was not getting caught in the first place. Rossi sank into the visitor's chair and watched Jack's chest rise and fall. He seemed to be aware that someone had left.

"Daddy?" he mumbled.

"Shh," Rossi soothed. "Your dad just went for some coffee."

Jack's eyes opened.

"Uncle Dave," he said and Rossi smiled.

"Hey, kiddo," he whispered. "How are you feeling?"

"Sick." Jack mumbled, turning a wicked shade of green. Luckily, Rossi had quick reflexes and spared the cleaning staff a trip to the room.

"It's alright," he said, rubbing Jack's back as the boy coughed. "You're fine."

He noticed more blood in the vomit but didn't say anything.

"Do you want some water?"

Jack nodded and Rossi helped him sip from the cup.

"Better?"

"I guess." Jack fell onto his pillows, exhausted. Rossi noticed he'd broken out in sweat.

"Are you hot?"

"No."

Rossi sat back in the chair.

"Your dad told me how brave you were about coming to the hospital last night. I'm proud of you, Jack."

Jack smiled half-heartedly but turned his head when the door opened again. Aaron appeared with two cups of coffee, one of which he handed to Dave.

"Jack," he said, setting his coffee down on the table. "How do you feel?"

"I threw up." Jack informed his father, who nodded.

"I see that. I bumped into one of the doctors downstairs, he's going to come and take a look at you soon."

"Okay."

Jack didn't seem to have the energy to engage in conversation and began to doze almost immediately. Aaron looked at Dave.

"Do you know how Henry is?"

"J.J. talked to Will before we took off," he replied. "It didn't sound good."

Hotch sighed, studying his son.

"Do you think there's something suspicious about this?"

"I don't see how there can be," Rossi replied. "There's no way to prove they got sick through you and J.J. – she told me about your conversation – and I'm sure at least a dozen other kids came down with the flu in the past few days, too."

Aaron didn't say anything and the room was quiet again until the doctor appeared. He was wearing a yellow paper gown over his white coat, a surgeon's mask covered his nose and mouth, and he was wearing. He didn't question how Rossi got in the room as Aaron introduced them.

"Do you have the test results back?" he asked and the doctor nodded.

"We do," he replied. "Jack appears to have a strain of H5N1, or in common tongue, the avian bird flu."

"I didn't think that strain could be communicated through humans," Rossi said and the doctor nodded.

"It normally can't," he replied. "Which means Jack came into contact it with it another way."

The doctor looked at Hotch.

"Has Jack been exposed to any livestock recently? A petting zoo or a farm?"

Hotch shook his head.

"No, not that I can think of. Is there no other way he could contract it?"

"We'll run some more detailed tests," the doctor replied. "If this is a new strain of the flu, it's possible he contracted it through human contact."

"Will he be alright?"

"The morbidity of avian flu is higher than that of a normal flu strain," the doctor admitted. "But we're doing everything we can for him. Jack is young and healthy and we caught this in plenty of time. He should be fine."

"Is he still in quarantine?"

The doctor nodded.

"Until we know more, it's the best thing for him."

"What about us? We've been exposed."

"I'll need to ask you to remain here until we have more answers." He glanced at the coffee on the table. "We've been tracking the avian flu and it rarely mutates significantly within such a short period of time so I don't think you're in any danger. But, as I said, until we know it's the best for all involved to impose quarantine. From now on, anyone coming into the room will be gowned, masked, and gloved. I'll have a nurse come in shortly to replace the IV and bring Jack some breakfast."

"Thank you, Doctor." Aaron said and the doctor nodded, leaving the room. Aaron sighed, turning to look at his son again.

"You heard what the doctor said," Rossi said immediately. "Jack will be fine."

"He said Jack should be fine. There was no guarantee."

"There's no guarantee of anything," Dave argued. "You could take a sip of coffee and choke to death right now. Besides, the doctor said the avian flu rarely mutates so quickly which means they should be able to treat it easily."

Hotch didn't reply, still watching Jack's chest rise and fall.

"What about Garcia?" he asked, the frown never leaving his face. "She was exposed and she went to see Henry. Should we tell them?"

"Do you think we should?"

Finally, Aaron glanced at Dave.

"If it were the other way around, I'd want J.J. to tell me."

"Then call her."

Aaron pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled the media liaison.

"J.J.," he greeted. "How's Henry?"

J.J. sighed, glancing down at her son. He was as pale as the pillowcase.

"Not well," she said. "How's Jack? Are you still at the hospital?"

"Yes," Hotch replied. "Listen, J.J., the doctors think Jack has some new strain of the avian flu. He's under quarantine."

"Will he be alright?" J.J. asked immediately.

"The doctor seem to think so but Dave and I are in quarantine until we know, given our exposure."

"What about Garcia?"

"I'm going to call her next," Hotch said. "But I thought you should know, given that Garcia took care of Henry after staying with Jack."

"What did the doctor say about it?"

"We didn't mention it," he said. "We wanted you to make the decision about bringing Henry here."

"I'll talk to Will." J.J. told him. "I'll call you back."

"Alright."

Hotch ended the call and Rossi looked at him.

"What did she say?"

"She's going to talk to Will," Hotch replied, dialling Garcia. The phone rang five times before going to voicemail and Hotch tried her home number to the same end.

"I'll keep trying," Rossi said, pulling out his phone as Hotch's vibrated.

"J.J.," he answered.

"Can you tell the doctor to expect us? Will thinks we should take Henry in, just in case it's the same thing."

"Of course." Hotch replied. "See you soon."

He glanced at Rossi.

"J.J. and Will are bringing Henry in," he said. "Still nothing?"

"Zilch." Rossi replied and Hotch frowned. He went to Jack's bed and pressed the Nurse button and a moment later, a brunette wearing the gown, gloves, and mask appeared.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, noting Jack was still sleeping.

"There's another boy who may have the same thing," Hotch told her. "My co-worker's son got sick a day after Jack did and the same woman took care of them. They're bringing him here now."

"I'll find Dr. Clyde," she said. "Have you contacted the woman who took care of the children? She'll need to be quarantined as well."

"We're trying," Hotch said, motioning to Rossi.

The nurse nodded and left with the information. For a while, they weren't sure what was happening but half an hour later, J.J., Will, and Henry joined them in the quarantine room. Henry, who looked even smaller in his bed, was crying because of the IV in his arm.

"J.J.," Hotch said to his friend once the orderlies had left. "I'm so sorry, I had no idea Jack was this sick or else I wouldn't have let Garcia near Henry."

"Relax." J.J. said, glancing at Henry and Will. "You had no way of knowing. None of us did. Where's Garcia?"

"We can't get in touch with her." Rossi replied. "I've been trying all morning."

"Do you think something has happened?"

"I don't know." Hotch answered with a sigh. "How's Henry?"

They both looked at the three-year-old, now nestled in Will's arms.

"Scared," J.J. answered. "He doesn't understand what's going on. The doctor's gave him the IV for hydration but nothing else until they get more results back."

"More? What tests have they done?"

"Enough to determine it's the same strain of flu," J.J. replied. "Hence the quarantine."

"Did they ask you about livestock?" Rossi asked and J.J. nodded.

"The closest Henry has been to an animal is the preschool's goldfish," she replied. "And somehow I don't think that gave him avian flu."

"No," Hotch said with a thin smile, though it fell away almost instantly.

"You alright?" J.J. asked and Hotch sighed.

"Yeah," he said, not making eye contact. "It's just … everything about this feels wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"It's just a feeling," Hotch replied. "But something tells me that it wasn't an accident that it's Jack and Henry lying in these beds right now. Someone did this."

"But who? How?"

"I don't know." Hotch glanced at Rossi. "Any luck with Garcia?"

"No."

"Call Morgan," he said. "Tell her to go to Garcia's place and make sure she's alright."

"Do you want to let the rest of the team know what's going on?" J.J. asked.

"We may as well," Aaron replied. "If I'm right, we might need them. Besides, they all care about Jack and Henry."

"I'll call Reid," J.J. said, pulling out her phone.

* * *

It didn't take long for Reid and Prentiss to be in the waiting room, though Morgan and Garcia were still missing.

"Hotch, the door is locked and no one is answering the phone," Morgan said, pacing outside Garcia's apartment. "What do you want me to do?"

"Break it down," Hotch replied.

"I can't," Morgan answered. "After being shot I insisted she have the door metal plated and deadbolts put in. She wouldn't take the gun but she did take my advice on that. I won't be able to break that down."

Hotch sighed.

"Find some other way in, then," he said. "You've checked with the landlord for an extra key?"

"Landlord is away," Morgan replied, examining the hallway. "And Kevin doesn't have a key. I'll get in, don't worry."

Hotch nodded and ended the call.

"What did he say? Is Garcia alright?" J.J. asked from Henry's bed.

"Morgan can't get in," he said. "The door's locked and plated. She's not answering her phone."

J.J. frowned and looked back at Henry, stroking his hair.

"Daddy?" Jack whimpered and Aaron hurried to his son's side.

"What's wrong Jack?"

"My tummy hurts."

"Do you want something to eat?"

"No. I think I'm gonna be sick."

That was all the warning Hotch got and the next thing he knew, he was wearing the contents of Jack's stomach. All the adults looked on in sympathy, though Will and J.J. stayed where they were.

"Sorry," Jack mumbled, rubbing his eyes with a clenched fist.

"Shh," Hotch soothed, rubbing Jack's back. "It's alright, you didn't mean to."

"Here," Rossi said. "Take a sip of water. It'll get the yucky taste out of your mouth."

He helped Jack sip from the cup while Aaron ducked into the bathroom and tried to wash the stain – or at least the smell – from his shirt.

* * *

"Do you think they'll be okay?" Reid asked Prentiss. Emily looked up at Reid, who was pale and there were bags under his eyes. She imagined she looked about the same.

"I don't know, Reid," she answered honestly. "The doctors are doing what they can and they're with people who love them. That's the best thing right now."

Reid's foot was bouncing.

"I hate hospitals," he said, looking around. "I hate waiting in hospitals."

"I know," Emily replied.

The two lapsed into silence as the clock on the wall ticked away.

* * *

Agent Derek Morgan had done a lot of things but shimmying through a ventilation duct had never been one of them. It looked a lot easier in the movies, he thought as he covered his nose with his hand to keep from breathing in the copious amounts of dust. He supposed he should consider himself lucky; Garcia's building was older and had been converted from some sort of factory, which meant the duct work was big enough for a full-grown man to fit through. It wasn't particularly roomy but it was enough.

Peering down through one of the registers, Morgan stopped. He recognized the dark purple walls and zebra-print area rug.

"Gotcha," he murmured, pulling his utility knife from his belt. He pried the vent cover off and let it fall to the ground before lowering himself through the opening in the ceiling.

"Garcia?" he called. "Baby girl?"

There was no response and Morgan peered into the bathroom and then the bedroom.

"Garcia!" he exclaimed, rushing to her side. He touched her shoulder and Garcia screamed, sitting up and throwing off her night mask and pulling out her earbuds.

"Derek Morgan!" she exclaimed. "What on earth are you doing here? How did you get in?"

"We've been trying to reach you," Morgan explained. "Are you alright? You weren't answering your phone."

Garcia frowned and reached for her cell phone. She pressed a button but the screen stayed black.

"It's dead," she replied.

"What about the house number?"

"It's not working," she answered. "The landlord was supposed to take care of it but it's taking a while. What's going on? Is Jack alright?"

Morgan shook his head.

"He and Henry, plus Rossi, Hotch, J.J. and Will are in quarantine at the hospital. You need to join them."

"Quarantine? What happened?"

"The doctor thinks this may be a new strain of avian flu," Morgan replied. "They're doing tests and the quarantine is precautionary at this point."

"And they think that I have it, too?"

"Not necessarily," Morgan replied. "They just want to make sure you're alright. You've been exposed to both of them in the past twenty-four hours."

"Oh goodness, oh goodness," Garcia mumbled, frantically got out of bed and searching for a fresh set of clothes. "We need to get to the hospital."

"It's alright," Morgan replied. "Take your time."

"Take my time?" Garcia exclaimed. "We're talking about Hotch and J.J.'s _kids_! How can I take my time?"

Morgan didn't respond, mostly because Garcia had shut herself in the bathroom but he honestly didn't have a good answer. The lab tech appeared a moment later.

"Let's go," she said, walking past Morgan to the door. She pulled it, expecting it to be unlocked, and stumbled slightly when the door didn't budge.

"How did you get in?" she asked again, flipping the locks and opening the door.

"Duct work," Morgan replied with a grin. "Hotch told me to break the door down but, well, that wasn't going to happen so I had to find another way."

Garcia raised an eyebrow.

"Did you ask the neighbor?"

"What?"

"Patsy, two doors down. She has a key."

"Garcia."

"Don't worry," Garcia said with a smile. "I did a full background check first. She waters the plants when I'm away but enough chit-chat. We have to go!"

* * *

"Where are they?" Garcia's voice carried down the hallway and Reid and Prentiss stood up.

"Room five-twelve." Reid said. Garcia hurried away and Emily raised an eyebrow at Derek.

"What happened to you?"

Dust bunnies clung to most of Morgan's black ensemble.

"Don't ask." Morgan replied. "How are they?"

"The doctor's in there now."

Garcia opened the door and everyone turned to look at her, including the doctor.

"You must be Penelope Garcia," he said and Garcia nodded, eyes alternating between Jack and Henry.

"Are they alright? Please tell me they'll be alright."

"As I was just saying," the doctor continued. "Tests have confirmed that this is, in fact, a unique strain of avian flu. However, it was not contracted by animal contact."

"What do you mean?" Rossi asked.

"The infection, for lack of better terms, is too strong to have occurred naturally." The doctor replied. "These boys were dosed with the strain."

"You mean someone poisoned our kids?" Will asked, holding J.J.'s hand. The doctor nodded.

"Yes," he said.

"Are they contagious?"

"Because it's a strain of the flu we're not familiar with," the doctor replied. "They may be."

"Does that mean the quarantine is still in effect?"

"Yes." The doctor replied. "But I'm afraid it's more serious than that."

"What do you mean?" Hotch asked.

"I understand your team has been in close contact since Jack first got sick, is that correct?"

"Yes. Does that matter?"

"It does," the doctor replied. "All of you will need to be placed under observation and have tests run. We'd also like to give you the vaccine we have for avian flu. It may not be effective, as it was made to protect against a different strain, but it can't hurt. We don't have enough beds to keep you all here," the doctor continued. "So we're transferring you all to a hospital in Georgia. The Centre for Disease Control will work with you there."

"Is that really necessary?" Rossi asked and the doctor nodded.

"We need to isolate you as much as possible," the doctor answered. "And no hospital in the city has the space."

"Can we use a house?"

"Theoretically," he said. "But it would need to be big enough to accommodate all of you while being secluded enough to ensure neighbours aren't placed in any danger."

"We'll use my place." Rossi announced and Aaron looked at him.

"That's not necessary, Dave. We can go to Georgia."

"Don't be ridiculous," Rossi replied, looking at the doctor. "I have plenty of space and the nearest neighbour is almost five acres away."

"You'll need to clear it with the CDC and see if they can send their staff here," the doctor replied. "If they okay it, then it sounds reasonable to me."

"Thank you." Rossi said and the doctor turned to Garcia, asking her how she felt. Hotch looked at Rossi.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Of course," Rossi replied. "But you were right; there's something bigger going on here. If we stay at my place, we can try and figure out who did this. We've been targets before, Aaron, and I'm sure there's someone out there sick enough to target Henry and Jack as a way to get to us. I want to know who and I want to stop them."

Aaron nodded.

"I agree," he said. "But let's keep our investigation quiet. I don't want the doctors knowing we're investigating this. If we're dealing with an unsub who poisons children with a strain of avian flu, chances are they have a very specific medical background."

"Right." Rossi replied. "I'm going to make a few calls to get the house ready."

He saw Aaron glance at his son.

"We'll catch whoever did this, Aaron."

"I know."

**So … lots happened here and lots more is going to. Please review! **


	5. Raised Stakes

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.**

**My plans have failed me, I'm afraid. I completely intended to have this chapter edited and posted before I moved but it's been sitting half-edited on my computer for over a week now. I'm so sorry for the delay! Thank you all, as always, for your encouragement and support of the story and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. **

Four hours later, the team found themselves in Rossi's home. The doctor from the hospital was there, as well as two doctors wearing white coats emblazoned with the CDC logo. Will was watching Henry and Jack, both of whom were sleeping.

"Hello, everyone," the doctor from the hospital began. "I'd like to introduce to you Dr. Colleen Keyes," he motioned to the woman, whose black hair was pulled into a ponytail. She smiled kindly at them.

"And this is her assistant, Dr. Paxton Reynolds."

The man had round glasses and didn't smile but nodded firmly.

"They're from the Center for Disease Control and their labs are running tests on the blood samples we sent this morning. Dr. Keyes and Dr. Reynolds are going to take over Jack and Henry's care. The local hospitals have been alerted and will be kept up-to-date so they can watch for similar symptoms in other patients."

He turned to Dr. Keyes.

"I've got to get back to the hospital," he said. "So I'll leave them in your capable hands."

"Thanks for everything," Aaron said, shaking the doctor's hand as he left. Dr. Keyes moved to the middle of the circle.

"As I'm sure you're aware," Dr. Keyes said, and her voice was warm and comforting. "Jack and Henry have a strain of avian flu. Samples have been sent to the labs at the CDC as well as the United States National Institutes of Health in Maryland to determine exactly how the strain has been altered and what affect this will have on their treatment. Until we know more about the strain, it's important to keep the quarantine but please don't worry. All indicators point to this being a non-contagious strain. However, Dr. Reynolds is going to vaccinate each of you with the H5N1 vaccine as an added precaution."

"What about Jack and Henry?"

"Because they've already contracted the strain," answered Dr. Keyes. "The vaccine would do little to serve them at this point. For now, we've made them comfortable with pain relievers, sedatives, and we're keeping them hydrated via an IV drip."

"Are we allowed to visit them?" Garcia asked and Dr. Keyes smiled.

"Of course," she said. "Downstairs has been converted to a treatment facility. There are ten beds and medical equipment in the great room. Jack and Henry are down there down and should any of you fall ill, you'll be required to stay there as well. The rest of the time, feel free to make yourselves comfortable around the house. We can't permit you to go outside but Agent Rossi has told me that the rooms upstairs have been made up and you're free to sleep in them."

She glanced at Rossi and he nodded confirmation.

"We'll be keeping close tabs on your health in the next couple of days." Dr. Keyes continued. "Dr. Reynolds and I will be logging your vitals thrice daily and taking a blood sample every evening. We'll be sending these to the CDC for testing. However, please tell one of us immediately if you start to feel ill in any way. The earlier we can target symptoms, the better."

Her phone vibrated and she glanced at it.

"Excuse me," she said. "I have to take this."

Dr. Reynolds stepped forward.

"If you come with me," he said awkwardly. "I'll vaccinate you."

He led the agents into Rossi's dining room, where he'd laid out eight syringes. One by one, the agents rolled up their sleeves and received the vaccine.

"Please let us know if you feel uncomfortable or ill," he repeated, taking the final vaccine and going downstairs. He left the room and Morgan raised an eyebrow.

"Alright," he said. "What have we got? What's the plan?"

Hotch glanced over his shoulder to make sure neither doctor was within earshot.

"We need to think of who has the ability, skills, and equipment to manipulate the strain."

"We also need to consider who has it out for Hotch and J.J.," Rossi added. "These weren't random choices; there's a reason these two kids got sick."

Aaron glanced at J.J., noting she looked exhausted. He wondered if he had similar dark circles under his eyes.

"We'll need a trigger and a stressor," Morgan added. He turned to Garcia. "Can you do some magic and find a list of people who have died from avian flu in the past ten years? Look at immediate family members. Maybe there's a personal reason for choosing avian flu."

"Of course," Garcia said.

"Also begin running searches on research projects and grants," Reid said. "In 2007, a team at the United States National Institutes of Health began a study where people voluntarily contracted the flu. Their illness was observed so doctors could better predict the impacts of a weakened immune system. Similar studies may have been requested for avian flu."

"Got it." Garcia replied. "Anything else?"

"Cast a wide net," Rossi said. "Check people with the proper education background for this sort of thing. Med schools, PhD dissertations, private labs."

"That's a lot of people," Garcia said. "But I'll cross-check all the names."

"I'll talk to Jack," Hotch said. "Maybe he can remember something suspicious in the days before he got sick."

"I'll do the same with Henry," J.J. added.

"Remember," Rossi said firmly. "We need to keep this quiet. We don't want anyone knowing we're looking into this."

The team dispersed; Garcia, Morgan, Reid, and Emily moved to the study, where Garcia started hooking up laptops, and the others went downstairs.

"Daddy?" Jack asked when the door opened. Hotch went to his son's bedside.

"I'm right here," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"What's going on?"

Aaron sighed.

"The doctors aren't sure how you got sick," Aaron replied. "So they've put us all in something called quarantine. It means that no one is allowed to leave Uncle Dave's house until they know that we aren't going to make everyone sick."

Jack looked scared.

"Am I going to die?" he asked and Hotch shook his head.

"No," he said. "The doctors are doing everything they can to make sure you're alright."

Jack sighed.

"Jack," Hotch began slowly. "Do you remember anything out of the ordinary happening the day before you got sick?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Think really hard. It was Monday. Did something happen at school?"

"No."

"Nothing at all?"

"No. Why are you asking me this, Daddy?"

"Do you remember what I told you about being a profiler?"

"You ask people questions about ordinary things cause you can see what others missed."

"Right," Aaron said with a smile. "I'm asking you questions to see if something that may have seemed ordinary made you sick."

"I'm sorry," Jack said. "I can't remember."

"It's not your fault," Hotch replied. "Sometimes people don't remember. You've tried your best and that's all you can do. How do you feel?"

Aaron placed his hand on Jack's forehead.

"Gross."

"Try to go to sleep," Hotch murmured and the worry evident in the lines around his eyes.

* * *

A bed over, J.J. was snuggling with Henry. Will had gone upstairs after Dr. Reynolds had given him the vaccine, hoping to find something some coffee.

"Did someone come and visit you on Monday? A friend, maybe?"

Henry shook his head miserably. Unlike Jack, Henry was too small to remember details of days that blended together.

"It's alright," J.J. soothed, pulling Henry closer to her. "Just close your eyes."

Henry did as he was told and J.J. glanced at Hotch worriedly. Hotch tried to smile back but it came out as a sympathetic grimace.

"Dad?" Jack asked and Hotch glanced down at his son. "Will you stay with me?"

"Of course," Hotch replied. Feeling slightly self-conscious, he climbed onto the bed and Jack curled up next to him. It felt slightly foreign knowing that J.J. was seeing a side of him he rarely showed. The team had seen him in numerous vulnerable positions but this was different. They'd stood at his side numerous times – everything from bedside to graveside – but they'd never seen him interact so closely with Jack. Hotch couldn't shake the feeling that his blonde co-worker was watching him as Jack curled up next to his dad. He didn't look over to the other bed and, once Jack's breathing slowing down, he closed his own eyes.

* * *

"Agent Hotchner?" Dr. Keyes gently shook Aaron's shoulder and he was immediately awake.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry to wake you," she said. "But I need to examine Jack."

"Sorry, of course," Hotch mumbled, getting off the bed. He glanced over and saw Will sitting next to Henry, looking at picture books with him, and then watched the doctor examine his son. Jack was still pretty groggy but Dr. Keyes took his temperature, listened to his breathing, and replaced the IV bag.

"How is he?"

Dr. Keyes motioned him down the corridor so they didn't disturb Jack, Henry, or Will.

"He's stable," she said. "But Jack's temperature is quite high. The only improvement we've seen is a decrease in his vomiting thanks to the antiemetic. However, we'll need to be careful how much we use that drug as it can present certain side effects that make it difficult to track Jack's progress."

"What sort of side effects?"

"It can affect his body temperature," Dr. Keyes replied. "And it can potentially make him quite dizzy. So far Jack seems to be responding to it quite well but that could change as we start introducing new drugs based on the test results. Our plan is to slowly decrease the dosage before administering any new drug."

"When will you have to do that?"

"We'll be receiving the test results by midnight," Dr. Keyes said. "So it we'll likely wait until about nine o'clock. Hopefully Jack can eat some supper before we take him off the medication."

Hotch glanced at Jack, feeling sorry for what he knew his son was going to go through in the upcoming hours.

"Why don't you go upstairs for a while?" Dr. Keyes suggested. "I know you want to stay with him but believe me, Agent Hotchner, it can be exhausting for parents to sit vigil at their child's bedside. I'll be here if he wakes up."

Aaron didn't look convinced.

"Just a little while, I insist. You can't let yourself get worn down. Get a cup of coffee, chat with your friends."

"Come and get me if you need anything." Hotch finally said and Dr. Keyes nodded.

"Of course."

Hotch went upstairs and found most of his team in the living room.

"Hey, how's Jack?" Morgan asked and Hotch sighed.

"Sleeping."

"So were you," J.J. replied with a smile. "Coffee?"

Hotch nodded and J.J. left the room, returning with a cup of coffee for her boss.

"Extra strong," she said.

"Thanks." Hotch took a sip. "How are you holding up?"

J.J. sighed.

"I'm alright," she said. "Will and I are taking turns with him but we feel so helpless."

"I know the feeling."

"We're all here to help, Sir," Garcia said from across the room and Hotch nodded.

"I know. I think I'm going to get something to eat. Excuse me."

Hotch took his coffee into the kitchen and found Rossi clicking away on his computer.

"Aaron," he said, glancing up and closing the laptop. "How are you?"

"Tired," Hotch replied, taking an apple from the fruit bowl. "I fell asleep on Jack's bed."

"How is he?"

"Still sleeping," Aaron said. "Dr. Keyes said he's not getting much better, apart from not throwing up so much but they're going to change his medication soon in anticipation of the test results in."

"Sounds like you might be in for a long night. Why don't you go crash upstairs for a few hours? I'll sit with Jack if he wakes up."

Hotch took the last sip of his coffee, rotating the apple in the palm of his other hand. He felt too worried to eat.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course."

"Thanks, Dave. Dr. Keyes might come looking for me but if you're down there, tell her not to bother unless Jack's asking for me."

"Sure thing. Sleep well."

Hotch left the kitchen, tossing the apple into the compost bin on his way out. He went upstairs, taking his go-bag from the front hall, and found a bedroom.

* * *

"Has anyone seen Hotch?" Morgan asked as they passed around containers of food that evening.

"He's upstairs," Rossi replied. "I told him to nap for a few hours. We should probably wake him, though. He hasn't eaten much today."

"I'll go," Emily replied, leaving her barstool at the island and going upstairs. She found a closed door in the main hallway and knocked.

"Hotch?" she called. "Dinner is ready."

There was no reply and Emily opened the door slightly.

"Hotch," she said a little louder and Aaron's eyes opened and he sat up.

"Yeah?"

Emily went in all the way and smiled.

"Glad to see you got some sleep," she said. "Dinner is ready."

"Thanks," Aaron said, rubbing his eyes.

"How are the boys?"

"They're about the same. Jack is still dozing."

"Good." Hotch walked around the bed, though he stopped by the footboard and grabbed onto it for balance. Emily saw him hang his head and take a deep breath.

"Hotch?" Emily asked. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Hotch's head rose and he took a few steps forward. Emily frowned.  
"Are you sure? You know what Dr. Keyes said."

"I'm fine, Emily. Come on, everyone's waiting for us."

Hotch pushed past her and Emily frowned but followed. Everyone sat down to eat and they tried to keep the mood light but it was difficult and there were often long stretches of silence.

"Hotch," Emily said halfway through the meal. She'd noticed that Aaron was merely pushing food around his plate. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Everyone turned to Hotch, who glared slightly at Emily before sighing.

"I'm just not hungry."

"Have you eaten today?" Morgan asked.

"I had breakfast," Hotch replied. "And lunch. I promise you I'm fine."

He put his napkin on the table and pushed his chair back.

"I'm going to check on Jack."

Hotch left the table and everyone exchanged worried glances.

"He was dizzy when he stood up," Emily explained. "And he wasn't eating."

"Should we mention it to Dr. Keyes or Dr. Reynolds?" J.J. asked.

"He might just be worried about Jack," Will said. "I don't have much of an appetite, either. I'd rather be with Henry but J.J. insisted I come up."

"I'll talk to him," Morgan said, standing up. He left the table and went downstairs.

"Docs," he said to Dr. Keyes and Dr. Reynolds, who were sitting near the door. "There's food upstairs, feel free to help yourselves."

He glanced at Hotch and then at the doctors again. Dr. Keyes nodded, taking the hint.

"Come on, Pax," she said, standing. The young man glanced down the ward and then stood silently, following his co-worker.

Aaron was sitting on the edge of Jack's bed, studying his son's face while sponging it with a damp cloth.

"I'm fine," Aaron said before Morgan could say anything. Derek glanced at Henry, who was fast asleep, and smiled at the sight before looking at Hotch.

"I didn't say you weren't," Morgan replied. "But you seem to be awfully defensive about it. That tells me you're hiding something."

Hotch sighed.

"Don't."

"Don't what? Be worried? Hotch, we're concerned about you. Emily told us what happened upstairs and she's right, you weren't touching your food. Something is bothering you. What aren't you telling us?"

Hotch sighed and put the cloth down. He turned to Morgan.

"I don't know what's wrong," he said finally. "I'm worried about Jack but there's something else that isn't sitting right."

"Emotionally or physically?"

"Both."

"Are you worried enough to make yourself sick?"

"I don't know."

"So you don't feel well?"

Aaron sighed.

"No."

"Then you need to tell the doctors and get it checked out. Jack and Henry were drugged and for all we know, you have been, too."

Hotch closed his eyes to ease the pulsing of his head.

"Fine," he said. "Get Dr. Keyes down here."

"Good man," Morgan said. "Be right back."

Morgan disappeared and returned with the doctor.

"Agent Morgan tells me you're not feeling well," she said to Hotch, who glanced at Jack before nodding.

"He's right."

"Why don't you come lie down and I'll do a few tests," Dr. Keyes said, motioning to the next empty bed. The bed was still in its upright position and, despite being a hospital bed, Hotch found it to be quite comfortable. Morgan stood in the shadows as the doctor returned with a pair of gloves, a clipboard, and a caddy of equipment.

"Can you describe your symptoms?"

"I have a headache," Hotch replied. "And I got light-headed when I stood up too quickly."

"Any nausea or vomiting?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Have you been drinking water?"

"Not a lot," Hotch replied.

"Alright," the doctor put her clipboard down. "Just relax for me."

The doctor felt Hotch's glands and Morgan saw him wince at her touch. She pulled a light from the toolkit and shone it in the dark eyes before un-looping the stethoscope from around her neck.

"Deep breath," she instructed. She moved the disk several places and didn't make any comment as she looped it back around her neck.

"And finally," she said, holding out the probe of an electronic thermometer.

"What's it say?" Hotch asked, once the device had signalled its completion.

"One hundred point three." Dr. Keyes said, raising her eyebrow. "I'll take another blood sample and have it analyzed but there is no doubt in my mind that you're coming down with something. The question of the day is if it's the same thing that's making your son ill."

"What do I need to do?" Hotch asked.

"Nothing," Dr. Keyes replied. "That is, nothing short of changing into a gown and making yourself comfortable. You'll need to stay down here until we get your test results back."

She handed Hotch the folded gown.

"I'll be back in a few moments," she said.

"Thanks." Hotch replied dryly, taking the gown. He raised an eyebrow at Morgan.

"Pleased?"

"That you're sick? Of course not." Morgan replied. "But I'm glad there are people here to make sure you're alright. I'll give you some privacy."

* * *

"How's Hotch?" J.J. asked when Morgan appeared in the dining room. He had passed Dr. Keyes on the steps and assumed she'd shared the diagnosis with the team.

"About as well as can be expected."

He glanced at Dr. Reynolds.

"Is there any word from the CDC about the test results?"

"Not yet." Dr. Reynolds replied, taking a bit of his sandwich. "We should hear in about an hour, though Dr. Keyes wants to send new samples given Agent Hotchner's condition."

The team exchanged glances, questions forming, but they waited till Dr. Reynolds had finished eating and left.

"If Hotch is sick," Reid said immediately. "Then that means the strain could be contagious."

"What does that mean for us?" Garcia asked, worriedly.

"Nothing good," Emily said, stabbing a baby tomato with her fork.

"Let's not get distracted," Rossi said. "This doesn't change the fact that someone drugged Jack and Henry. What have you found, Garcia?"

"Not a lot, I'm afraid." Garcia replied, turning to take a laptop off the hutch. "The searches brought back thousands of names and even cross-checking them, there's still hundreds of possible candidates."

"We need to narrow this down. What have you three come up with for a profile?" Rossi asked, glancing at Morgan, Emily, and Reid.

"Nothing that can be put into a computer database," Emily said. "We know he's narcissistic, sadistic, and has a god-complex,"

"Wait," Will interrupted. "A god-complex _and_ a narcissist? Can someone be both?"

"Absolutely," Reid replied. "Whoever did this holds a very high standard of his work. He knows that he's the best and he wants people to see it. That makes him narcissistic but because inducing an illness to prove his superiority tells us he's also got a god-complex. People with that sort of complex thrive on being able to control aspects of life that are supposedly dictated by nature – things like life and death, sickness and health. He enjoys showing his power over other people's lives."

Will nodded to show he understood.

"We've been working another question," Morgan added. "Why the BAU? Garcia's trying to find connections between the names on those lists and the Bureau."

"This is all good in theory," Rossi said with a sigh. "Unfortunately, we need more to go on. Once we get the test results back, we can narrow the field of specialization even more."

Garcia looked up from her notebook.

"We'll find this guy, right? And everyone will be okay?"

Derek smiled at her, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"Of course, Baby Girl. Do we ever fail?"

"You can't save everyone, Derek." Penelope's eyes filled with tears and Morgan sighed.

"I know, Princess. But this time, we'll win. The stakes are too high not to."

… **the plot thickens! Please review – it will make my day! Thanks =)**


	6. I'm Sorry

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.**

… **so this is probably a bit unheard of in the fanfiction world but yes, two years after my last chapter update, I have returned. It's been an absolutely insane two years but in a new city, new apartment, and new school, the urge to get back in touch with this story has come thanks to finding the chapter outlines in the bottom of a box while moving. I'm terribly sorry for the wait and thank you all, in advance, for coming back. I hope to keep working on this and while I can't promise the speediest updates, I **_**can**_** promise it won't be two years again! I hope you enjoyed the long awaited continuation. **

Dr. Keyes returned as she'd promised and collected the vials of blood from Aaron before inserting an IV line into his right wrist.

"What's in it?" he asked.

"Tylenol and saline," she answered, taping the cannula into place. "It's the only thing I can give you until we know what's making you sick. At the very least it will help your fever and keep you hydrated."

Hotch nodded and nestled his head against the pillow.

"Don't be afraid to call for myself or Dr. Reynolds if you need anything," Dr. Keyes told him. Hotch nodded again and, once Dr. Keyes had walked back to the desk she and Dr. Reynolds were using at the far end of the room, his head rolled to the left to look at Jack. The younger Hotchner was still asleep, the cloth Aaron had been using to wipe his face still resting on top of the covers.

"Hey," a female voice said softly and Hotch turned his head. J.J. was walking down the make-shift ward, a book clutched in her hand, and Hotch smiled at her.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Like a failure," admitted Hotch, slightly surprised he'd said it so bluntly. But then again, he and J.J. often talked about the realities of being a parent and an F.B.I. agent so why should he bother to hide it now?

"You can't blame yourself for this," J.J. told him. "That's exactly what the," she glanced over at the desk but Dr. Keyes was typing, focused on her computer screen and not listening to them. "What the unsub wants." J.J. finished.

"I didn't mean as an F.B.I. profiler."

"I know," answered J.J. with a knowing smile. "Neither did I."

"I hate everything about this. I can't make my son feel better, my entire team is in quarantine, your son is sick, and I can't manage to keep myself healthy enough to take care of the kids or help with the case."

"You can't think of it that way," J.J. insisted. "You're thinking like someone too close to the investigation."

"How else am I supposed to think? Our sons are lying there, poisoned."

"Exactly." J.J. emphasized. "They've been poisoned. You couldn't make Jack better because he wasn't supposed to get better. Neither was Henry. That's not failing at parenting, Hotch, and neither was getting sick. For all we know you've been poisoned as well."

"How?"

"I don't know, we're still trying to figure it out."

Aaron nodded but didn't respond. His mind was swimming with feeling of guilt and unanswered questions but mostly he just felt sick.

"Close your eyes," J.J. told him. "I'll be here in case Jack wakes up."

Hotch nodded again and lowered the hospital bed to a comfortable sleeping position. Within a few minutes he had drifted off and J.J. had settled herself in an armchair between Henry and Jack. For a while, she tried to read but her mind was too busy to focus. Finally, she closed the book and looked at Henry.

She could sympathize with what Hotch was feeling; there was nothing worse than watching Henry suffer and not being able to do anything about it but she was trying to keep an objective opinion.

"Daddy?" a small voice drew J.J. from her thoughts and she turned away from Henry to face Jack.

"Hey Jack," she said softly, smiling at him. "How do you feel?"

Jack rubbed his eyes with a clenched fist.

"Sick," he mumbled. "What's wrong with my dad?"

J.J. glanced past Jack at Aaron, who was still sleeping, and then smiled again at the little boy. She got up from her chair and sat on the edge of his bed.

"Your dad's got the flu, just like you do."

"Is it my fault?"

J.J. shook her head.

"No."

Jack looked so unsure of himself that J.J. pulled his little hands into hers.

"I promise you didn't do anything wrong," she said, squeezing Jack's hands. "Do you think you could eat something? Your tummy must be hungry."

Jack shook his head.

"No?" J.J. pressed. "What about something to drink?"

Jack pondered this.

"Can Miss Garcia play the straw game with me again?"

"The straw game?"

Jack explained the game and J.J. smiled.

"I'll go ask her," she promised, standing up. She hurried up the stairs and was on her way to the study, the room the BAU had decided to use for the investigation, when she found Dr. Reynolds in the hallway.

"Is everything okay?" she asked. Dr. Reynolds hadn't been doing anything specific, just milling around a few paces from the door. "Are you looking for someone?"

"No," Dr. Reynolds answered. "I was admiring the art."

He motioned to a painting hanging on the wall and J.J. glanced at it. It was a dull landscape painted in the impressionist style.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Dr. Reynolds asked, turning to gaze at it again.

"Sure," agreed J.J. "But if you'll excuse me, I need to speak with Garcia."

She walked past the doctor and went into the study. The encounter hadn't done anything to reassure her of Dr. Reynold's character – she had noticed earlier that he wasn't the most personable of doctors – but she didn't have time to dwell on it. She knew that Jack's desire for a smoothie wouldn't last forever.

"Garcia," she said. The lab tech looked up from her computer.

"How's Hotch?" she greeted in return.

"Sleeping," answered J.J. "But Jack is awake and was wondering if you'd play the straw game with him again."

Garcia's smile grew until it lit up her face and J.J. saw how much she valued taking care of the kids.

"Of course," she said, standing up quickly. "Provided there are straws in the kitchen."

"Cupboard above the fridge," Rossi said without looking up from the file he was reading. Garcia smiled at J.J. again and then hurried out of the room.

"What's the straw game?" Reid asked.

"Something Garcia cooked up to make Jack drink a smoothie, I think," J.J. answered. "Every time he takes a sip, he adds another straw to the cup. They try to see how many straws he can make fit."

"Distraction tactic," Reid commented and J.J. nodded.

"How's it going in here?" she asked quietly.

"We're still cross-checking names," answered Emily. "But so far nothing has come up. Garcia said it will take a while, though, something about a slow internet connection and getting past the Bureau's firewalls."

J.J. raised an eyebrow.

"We decided not to ask if it was legal," Morgan said in response and J.J. nodded again.

"How's Henry?" asked Will.

"Also sleeping," J.J. told him. "I should probably be getting back down there, I told Hotch I'd stay with Jack if he woke up."

J.J. met Garcia at the top of the stairs and together they went down, Garcia holding a handful of straws and a big plastic cup containing a smoothie.

"Hey Jack," Garcia whispered when she got close enough. Jack gave a small smile and sat up. J.J. adjusted his bed and pillows for him and then sat in the armchair, watching the game progress. She had to admit it was simple but effective; Jack finished the entire cup and broke his record.

"Fourteen straws, octopus fist bump!" Garcia exclaimed and Jack giggled as Garcia's hand moved away like the tentacles of an octopus. "Do you remember what comes next?"

Jack nodded.

"A nap," he answered.

"Right you are," Garcia replied, smiling.

"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?" The joy of the straw game had left Jack and he sounded young and afraid.

"Of course, sweetheart," Garcia murmured. She put the empty cup and used straws on the floor and went around to the other side of the bed. Settling herself, Jack curled up against her and Garcia began running her fingers over his back lightly.

J.J. watched in admiration how much love and affection Garcia showed while taking care of Jack. It was a real testament to how close their team was – they were more than co-workers, they were family.

It didn't take long for Jack to fall asleep but Garcia didn't leave the bed or stop rubbing the tiny shoulders and for the better part of an hour, the room was quiet. The silence was broken by Henry crying.

"Hey little man," J.J. said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "What's wrong?"

Henry couldn't articulate anything as he fought himself awake.

"Did you have a bad dream?"

Henry nodded and J.J. collected him in her arms, finding it difficult to do with the IV tube snaking up to the bag of fluid.

"Shh," she soothed, rocking him back and forth and kissing his head. "It's alright, mommy's here."

Henry curled into the familiar body and J.J. could feel the heat radiating from her son's forehead. Garcia looked on with concern.

"His fever's not getting any better," J.J. muttered as she continued to hold her son. As she readjusted his position in her arms, her brow furrowed.

"Henry?" she asked quietly. "Did you have an accident?"

Henry nodded, tears still running down his cheeks in shiny tracks. J.J. sighed and kissed the hot forehead again.

"Doctor?" she called and Dr. Keyes joined them a moment later.

"He's wet himself," J.J. told her. "Can I give him a bath?"

Dr. Keyes nodded and unhooked the tubing from the cannula.

"Try not to get his hand wet if you can and if you don't mind, I'd like to do a quick exam while the bath is running," the doctor said and J.J. nodded. It was at this point that Garcia finally got off Jack's bed, carefully moving so the little boy didn't wake up.

"I'll go run the bath," she said and disappeared upstairs. Dr. Keyes asked J.J. to lay Henry on his back and then proceeded to listen to his heart and lungs, check his temperature, and feel his abdomen.

"Thank you," she said, looping the stethoscope back around her neck. "You can take him for a bath now."

"Is there anything new?" asked J.J., picking Henry up again.

"No," Dr. Keyes answered. "But the good news is that Henry is no worse than he was when I last examined him." She glanced at her watch. "I suspect we'll be receiving the test results in about three hours," she continued. "And then we'll be able to start more aggressive treatment."

The evening wore on. J.J. bathed Henry but it was Will who carried him back downstairs and tucked him into a clean bed. Not long after Will had gone downstairs, Dr. Keyes appeared in the doorway of the study.

"Excuse me," she said. "But I was wondering who I could speak to about Jack Hotchner's care now that Agent Hotchner has been taken ill?"

"Me," answered Dave, standing. "Let's go to the kitchen."

Rossi led the doctor to the kitchen and put on a pot of water for tea.

"How are they doing?" he asked, setting out two mugs and retrieving the teabags.

"Alright, given the circumstances," the doctor admitted. "But I need to take Jack off his antiemetic medication."

"Why?"

"As you know, we're expecting the test results from Atlanta around midnight and, as I discussed with Agent Hotchner before he took sick, the medication needs to be decreased before we can introduce any new drug."

"But won't taking him off of it make him sicker?"

"It won't make him sicker in the sense that the disease will have become more severe," the doctor said. "But you are right, he will start vomiting again. The medication is merely masking that one symptom."

Rossi sighed as he set a mug of tea in front of Dr. Keyes.

"Thanks," she said, picking it up and blowing the steam.

"There's no way to keep Jack comfortable while waiting for the test results?"

"I'm afraid not."

Rossi sighed.

"Then I suppose you'd better do what you need to. Can I stay with him?"

"Of course."

"And how's Aaron?"

"Agent Hotchner is stable for the time being. His symptoms are not as severe as Henry or Jack's. Most notably, he's not vomiting and his temperature is relatively low."

"Do you expect that to change?"

"If he is being made sick by the same strain of influenza as Jack and Henry, it most definitely will get worse. I took new blood samples but they won't be sent for testing until the messenger arrives with the results of the first batch."

"If it is the same," Rossi speculated. "How long do you think it would be before his condition starts deteriorating?"

"A few hours if he's lucky," the doctor admitted. "I'll be honest, it's not a great situation for anyone involved but until I have a confirmed lab result – at least confirming H5N1 if not a more detailed analysis regarding the type of strain – I can't do anything for Agent Hotchner apart from treating his fever, nausea, and any other symptoms he presents."

Rossi nodded his understanding.

"What about the rest of the team?" he asked. "We didn't think the strain was contagious but now Hotch is sick."

"We didn't think it was," Dr. Keyes answered. "But we're dealing with an enigma. There's no predicting how it will act. Agent Hotchner has been exposed a lot longer than the rest of you so it's no surprise he got sick first if the strain is, in fact, contagious."

"But that could mean we're all going to get sick eventually."

"I'm afraid so."

Rossi shook his head and swallowed the last of his tea.

"Unfortunate business," he said and the doctor agreed.

"Thanks for the tea," she added. "I'm going to take Jack off the medicine now, if you'd like to come down."

Rossi followed Dr. Keyes downstairs and once they entered, Dr. Reynolds stood up from behind the desk and trailed after them.

"Dave?" Hotch mumbled, his eyes barely open to see what was happening. His voice was hoarse and he seemed to have aged ten years overnight.

"I'm here," Rossi said.

"How's Jack?"

"The doctors are just about to change his medications to prepare for more treatment in a few hours."

Hotch swallowed and nodded.

"He's going to be scared. He hates throwing up."

"I don't think anyone is a fan," Rossi chuckled. "But don't worry, I won't leave him."

"Thanks."

"How are you feeling?"

"Rough. Everything hurts."

"Do you want me to see if they can give you something for it?"

Hotch shook his head.

"I'll be okay."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded.

"I'll be here for the next few hours at least," Dave told his friend. "Go back to sleep."

Hotch's eyes drifted closed almost automatically and Dave sighed – he hated seeing the people he loved like this – and turned to Jack. The process of changing out the medication was as simple as replacing the IV solution but it had woken Jack up nonetheless.

"Hi Jack," Dave said, pulling up the chair J.J. had been sitting in – Will was currently sleeping on Henry's bed – and perched on the edge.

"What are they doing to me?"

"Changing some of your medicine," Dave told him. "It'll be okay."

And it was – for the first half hour or so – and then it became less okay.

"Uncle Dave?" Jack interrupted – Rossi had been reading _The Hobbit_ out loud to him – and Dave looked up.

"It's alright," Rossi assured him, reaching for one of the basins from the stack Dr. Keyes had left near the end of the bed. He managed to get it to Jack in time and Jack threw up in a spectacular fashion.

"Shh," Rossi soothed, rubbing Jack's back. "It's alright. Are you done?"

Poor Jack was never really done. It seemed that as soon as he'd settle down after a vomiting spell, another one would sneak up on him. Rossi didn't know when the doctors had seen to Henry but he, too, had had the medication stopped and was as sick as Jack. Will and J.J. were both in the great room with him and together the three of them took care of the sick boys well past midnight.

"Excuse me," Will called down the ward to Dr. Reynolds. Dr. Reynolds stood up and strolled towards them. "I'm sorry but do you not have your test results in yet?"

"I'm afraid the flight has been delayed by some inclement weather."

"Can they not be faxed or emailed?"

"No, the messenger needs to collect the blood samples I took from you all earlier this evening." In accordance with what they had been told at the beginning of their stay, Dr. Reynolds had collected a blood sample from everybody after dinner to send for testing.

"But we were told that the results would be here by midnight," J.J. put in. "And it's now almost one-thirty. These poor boys have been throwing up endlessly because you needed to take them off the medication in anticipation of treating them at midnight!"

"I'm sorry, Agent Jareau," Dr. Reynolds said, not sounding overly apologetic. "But I can't control the weather."

"You have to be able to do _something_!" J.J. exclaimed loudly.

"If you'll please calm down,"

"Don't tell me to calm down!" J.J. burst out. "My son is in pain and he is scared and you are telling me there is nothing you can do? You're a doctor; you're supposed to be able to help him!"

"Agent Jareau," Dr. Reynolds began again but J.J. had had enough. She stormed past the doctor and went upstairs.

"I'm sorry," Will apologized. "She's just tired."

"It's alright," Dr. Reynolds said calmly. "I know it's not easy but please rest assured that we are doing what we believe to be best for Henry, Jack, and Agent Hotchner."

"We know," answered Rossi. "But is there really nothing you can give them? Not even an over-the-counter medicine to help calm their stomachs?"

"I'll speak with Dr. Keyes when she returns."

"Where is she?"

"Getting a bit of sleep. She said she would take the shift at two o'clock."

Both Will and Rossi nodded and Dr. Reynolds returned to his desk.

"Do you mind if I check on J.J.?" Will asked Dave. "I can ask someone else to come down to help you."

Dave nodded and five minutes later, Reid appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

"I'm surprised you're still awake," Dave greeted him.

"Couldn't sleep," Reid answered. "Too many things to think about. I was reading."

"Don't I know it. Well, welcome to the infirmary," said Rossi, tucking the sheet around Jack who had (miraculously) managed to dose off.

"How are they?" Reid asked, looking from Henry to Jack to Aaron.

"About as good as could be expected. Here," Rossi handed Reid a pair of rubber gloves and a stack of disposable basins. "Prepare yourself."

* * *

"J.J.?" Will called softly, knocking on the bathroom door. He could hear her crying and tried again.

"Come on, darling," he murmured. "Open up and talk to me."

A minute later the door swung open but J.J. didn't emerge so Will went in and closed the door behind him. He held out his arms and J.J. moved into them, tears still in her eyes and a Kleenex clutched in her hand.

"He'll be okay," Will told her. "I can feel it."

"I know," J.J. replied. "But he's hurting so much."

"Dr. Reynolds is going to speak to Dr. Keyes to see if they can do something about it."

J.J. uttered a shaky sigh and laid her head on Will's chest.

"It'll be okay," Will repeated, smoothing back J.J. hair. His eyebrows furrowed and he took half a step back to examine his wife.

"Are you okay?"

J.J. shrugged.

"Tired," she admitted. "Worried."

"No," Will said. "I meant, you're awfully warm. Do you feel alright?"

Without waiting for her answer, Will placed his hand on J.J.'s forehead.

"You're burning up," he announced. "Don't even try to tell me you're fine, you need to speak to the doctors downstairs."

J.J. didn't object but let herself be led back downstairs.

"Doctor," Will said, going straight to the desk with J.J. following a few lazy steps behind him. Dr. Reynolds looked up. "I think J.J.'s got it, too. She has a fever."

Dr. Reynolds's gaze shifted from Will to J.J. and he stood up.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked.

"I was too busy taking care of Henry to notice," admitted J.J. "He's my son, he comes first."

Dr. Reynolds made no effort to hide that he was annoyed by this answer – J.J. suspected he did not have children and therefore did not understand – and led J.J. to the bed next to Hotch.

"What's going on?" Reid asked.

"J.J.'s got a fever," Will told them, standing at the end of the bed and watching the scene unfold. Dr. Reynolds went through the basic tests and then asked J.J. to do what Dr. Keyes had said to Hotch a few hours earlier – change into a gown and get into bed. Soon she was settled with her own intravenous line.

"How are the rest of you feeling?" Dr. Reynolds asked Will, Reid, and Rossi.

"Fine," they answered, almost in unison, and Dr. Reynolds didn't have a chance to ask any more questions before Hotch woke up and sat up quickly, looking panicked. Will was closest, realized what was about to happen, and shoved a basin into Aaron's hands. Like a sideshow at a carnival, everyone watched as Hotch was mercilessly sick until he was panting for breath and sweat dripped off him.

"Sorry," he sputtered, glancing to his right. "How long have you been here?"

"About ten minutes," J.J. answered.

"Here," Rossi spoke and Aaron turned to his right. Rossi exchanged the basin for a cup of water.

"Thanks," Hotch muttered, sipping it carefully. He turned to look at Jack and his heart sank. His son had seen the entire episode and his eyes were wide in fear.

"It's alright, Jack," he said. "I'm okay. My tummy is upset, just like yours."

These words did very little to change the look on Jack's face and Reid hurried around to kneel between his bed and Henry's.

"Look here, Jack," he said quickly. "I have a trick to show you."

Hotch was immensely grateful for the distraction and he looked back at Rossi.

"How is he?" he asked quietly, sitting his bed up.

"Sick." Rossi answered. "Poor kid's stomach may as well be turned inside out at this point. Henry's too. The doctors took them off the anti-nausea medication in preparation for the new treatment."

"Is it working?"

"Given it's not here yet, no."

"What?"

"There was a flight delay," J.J. filled in the details. "So they're still waiting for the messenger to deliver the results and collect the blood samples."

"Which reminds me," Dr. Reynolds cut in. "I should take another sample from you, Agent Jareau."

He hurried away and Aaron looked at J.J.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Like I told you earlier, it's not your fault."

"No," Hotch answered with a deep sigh. "But I know what you're going to feel like in a few hours."

Dr. Reynolds returned and took another vial of blood from J.J.'s arm and left without saying anything besides "get some rest."

"Is the rest of the team okay?" Hotch asked Rossi – Will had gone back to Henry – and Dave nodded.

"They're all in bed," he said. "But they're fine." He lowered his voice. "We left the database searches running overnight so hopefully by tomorrow we'll have a shorter list to work from. Once we know more about the strain of flu we should be able to deliver a more complete profile and start figuring out who this bastard is."

Hotch nodded and closed his eyes, swallowing hard to convince his stomach to calm down.

"You're better off not fighting it," J.J. said. Hotch looked at her in surprise.

"Trust me," she repeated. "There's no point. I tried when I was pregnant with Henry but it's going to happen either way so you may as well get it over with. You'll feel better if you do."

Hotch sighed and took the basin Rossi held out. It was going to be a long night.

**I don't think anything I write could be good enough to justify a two year wait period but I hope you enjoyed the chapter nonetheless. Reviews are very much appreciated, thanks! **


	7. A Loss of Control

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.**

**Hello again! Thanks, as always, to those who read and reviewed the last chapter. I was happy to see that there were still a few who remembered the story and returned to it! In what was a much faster turn-around time, I present the next chapter – enjoy! **

Indeed, it was a long night. At two o'clock, Dr. Reynolds went upstairs and in his place returned Dr. Keyes. This was a welcome relief to Reid, Will, and Rossi as the good doctor saw the state of distress and stepped in alongside them holding bins, filling cups of water, and sponging fevered brows.

At long last, her pager went off. Dr. Keyes lifted the cold compress from Aaron's forehead and plucked it off her belt.

"The messenger is here," she announced. "He has the test results."

Though good news, nobody cheered. Aaron, J.J., Jack, and Henry felt too sick to do anything and Rossi, Will, and Reid were too tired to react beyond a small smile.

Dr. Keyes handed Rossi the compress and hurried up the stairs to meet the messenger. As the sound of her footsteps faded away, Rossi sat on the edge of Hotch's bed and began applying the cloth again.

"This means they can help Jack," he told his friend and Aaron, his eyes closed in attempt to mask the pain, nodded.

"And it means we can start building a more accurate profile," murmured J.J. She caught sight of Rossi's raised eyebrow. "You. You can start building a more accurate profile."

Rossi nodded.

"You got that right. You and Hotch aren't going anywhere or doing anything."

"That won't be a problem," Aaron groaned in pain.

"What is it?"

"Stomach."

"Do you want me to see if they can give you anything?" Rossi repeated the question from earlier in the day and wasn't at all surprised when the agent changed his answer and gave a stiff nod.

"Alright, I'll ask as soon as Dr. Keyes returns. Try to relax."

"I can't," muttered Aaron. "My instincts wake me up every time I hear Jack throw up."

"Jack is well taken care of," Rossi assured him. "Reid hasn't left his side."

Hotch opened his eyes enough to see Reid sitting on Jack's mattress, quietly reading to him from _The Hobbit_. A bin was resting in Reid's lap, ready to be used if the need arose, and Jack's eyelids were heavy.

There were footsteps on the staircase and Dr. Keyes appeared with a thick manila envelope. She dropped it on the desk and walked towards them holding two files.

"These are Jack and Henry's results," she said once she'd reached Hotch and J.J.'s beds. Will joined them quickly. "The good news is that the labs in Atlanta were able to determine that the influenza strain does not pose a public health risk. That is, it's not contagious through human or animal contact. It requires direct and purposeful contact with the germ for infection to take hold."

"What's the bad news?" Rossi hesitated to ask the question everyone wanted to know the answer to.

"The lab was also able to confirm this is a genetically altered avian flu."

"Why is that bad?" J.J. asked.

"Because," Dr. Keyes answered gravely. "Whoever genetically altered it made it drug resistant."

Her words hung in the air like lead.

"Drug resistant?" Rossi repeated. "You mean there is no cure for this? There's nothing you can do?"

"There are several antiviral medications in existence," Dr. Keyes answered. "And we'll try them but if the lab is correct, none of them will be effective."

"And if they aren't effective, how do you treat the strain?"

"If we're lucky, whoever altered the strain also made an antidote."

"How long do we have before this becomes serious?" Hotch asked.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Agent Hotchner. This is already a serious situation but there is still hope. The CDC is working on finding an antidote and we have the antiviral medications to try. If they don't work, we will begin treating the fever, the pain, and the nausea separately. You are all healthy and strong with uncompromised immune systems. We hope that with a little help from the medicine your bodies will begin fighting the strain and you'll begin to recover."

Hotch nodded.

"I'll start Jack and Henry on the antiviral medication first," Dr. Keyes continued. "And then I'll come back with your first round of treatment."

Dr. Keyes donned a pair of gloves before going to Henry's bed. She changed the IV solution and, with Will's help, coaxed some oral medication into her youngest patient. By the time she finished working her way down the line, the boys and Hotch were already asleep and J.J. was beginning to doze off.

"I suggest you three get some sleep yourselves," Dr. Keyes said to Reid, Will, and Rossi. "I'll be awake and keeping an eye on them."

"Before we do, Doc," Rossi said. "I have a couple of questions about what the lab report said."

Dr. Keyes nodded and Dave continued.

"You said that the H5N1 strain has been altered to be drug resistant, which means no cure."

"That we know of."

"But someone knows it; the person who made it."

"Yes."

"But we don't know who that is. Is the CDC doing anything to find out more about where this strain came from?"

"I'm sure questions are being asked and, as I said, the labs there are working 24/7 to find an antidote."

"Is it being investigated?"

"I don't know, Agent Rossi. I'm a primary healthcare giver, not an epidemiologist or policy maker."

Rossi nodded.

"One last thing," he continued. "You mentioned the strain isn't communicable by human or animal contact?"

"That's right. It requires direct and purposeful contact – it could be as simple as touching a contaminated object and then putting your finger in your mouth."

"Thank you for your time," said Rossi, beckoning Will and Reid to follow him upstairs.

"Someone did this on purpose," Reid said as soon as they were in the kitchen. Rossi nodded.

"While we suspected it, we know now for sure," he said in a serious tone. "We need to figure out who and why."

"And most importantly," Will said. "Find where the cure is."

* * *

The rest of the night went by quickly and by seven o'clock, people had started appearing in the kitchen.

"Morning, Emily," Rossi greeted over his cup of coffee.

"Morning," Emily replied. "How are Hotch and J.J.? Have the lab results come in?"

Dave nodded.

"I'll wait until the whole team is here to share what the lab sent back," he answered cryptically. "But when I brought Dr. Keyes some coffee, everyone downstairs was sleeping."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"They were given sedatives."

"Less good, then."

Emily sat down with her coffee and took a muffin from the basket on the table. Will and Reid stumbled into the kitchen moments later, both sporting dark circles around their eyes. Morgan joined them a few minutes after that.

"Where's Garcia?" Rossi asked, eager to brief the team before Dr. Reynolds came to take their vitals.

"Her door was still closed," Morgan answered. "Do you want me to get her?"

Rossi nodded curtly.

"We have new information," he said. "And we need to get moving on it."

"That doesn't sound good," replied Morgan.

"It's not," sighed Will.

"I'll wake Garcia."

Morgan bounded up the stairs and knocked on the door to the room next to his.

"Baby girl?" he called. "Are you awake?"

There was no answer and he turned the knob.

"Garcia?"

He heard a low moan and pushed the door open further. The room was still completely dark thanks to black-out curtains and Derek followed the pathway of light from the hallway into the bedroom.

"Penelope?"

It took one look at the lab tech for Morgan to know something was wrong.

"Garcia!" he exclaimed, rushing to her side. "Someone help!" he yelled as he bent over Penelope.

"Come on, baby girl, wake up."

Garcia groaned and tried to push off Morgan's hand to roll over.

"No," Derek said firmly. "Come on, open your eyes."

He could see the effort it took for Garcia to focus her gaze on his face. She blinked slowly as Dr. Reynolds, Emily, and Rossi burst into the room.

"I found her like this," Morgan explained, stepping back as Dr. Reynolds hurried to her side, unlooping the stethoscope from around his neck.

"Was she alright last night?" Rossi asked and Emily nodded.

"Seemed to be."

"We need to move her downstairs," Dr. Reynolds said in a no-nonsense tone. "She needs immediate attention."

Without hesitation, Derek stepped back up to the bed and picked her up, bridal style. Dr. Reynolds followed him down the two flights of stairs and Morgan gently placed Garcia on the empty bed next to J.J. He watched helplessly as Dr. Keyes and Dr. Reynolds quickly inserted an IV line and tried to bring her temperature down.

"Morgan," said Rossi quietly. "We need to debrief without them around."

Morgan kept his eyes trained on Garcia a moment longer and then nodded, following Rossi upstairs.

"How is she?" Reid asked immediately.

"They're treating her now," answered Rossi. "In the meantime, we learned some new information last night."

He recounted what the lab reports had said about the new strain of H5N1.

"How do you want us to proceed?" Emily asked when he was done.

"Reid and Emily, I want you keep working on the lists Garcia had generated but focus it in further. Look for people who had access to the avian flu virus and the ability – both knowledge and facilities – to genetically alter it. Once that list is narrowed down, look for connections to the BAU, no matter how trivial."

"Got it." Emily nodded and she and Reid hurried into the study.

"Morgan, I want you to pull together a list of everyone we – all of us, including Henry, Will, and Jack – had contact with in the last two weeks. Avian flu has a relatively short incubation period but we need to be sure we don't miss anyone who may have had the opportunity to poison us. Cross check those names against the ones Reid and Emily pull."

"What about me?" Will asked tiredly.

"Take care of your family." Rossi answered simply.

Morgan went to the study and Will and Rossi returned downstairs.

"Uncle Dave?" Jack called when he saw him. Dave hurried over, glancing at Garcia as he passed her bed – both doctors were still leaning over her.

"How are you feeling, Jack?" he asked.

"A little better," Jack told him. "What's wrong with Miss Garcia?"

Rossi tried for an encouraging smile but it was strained at best.

"Did your dad explain what quarantine was, Jack?"

"Uh-huh."

"They put us in quarantine because there was a chance some of us could still get sick. Miss Garcia got sick last night and the doctors are taking care of her."

"Just like Daddy and Miss J.J."

"Right. It's nothing to be worried about because they'll all get better soon. So will you and Henry."

He may not be a child psychologist but Dave suspected that hearing they were sick with something medicine couldn't help would not be beneficial to Jack's prognosis.

"Can I have something to drink?" asked Jack and Rossi smiled.

"Of course. What do you want?"

"Orange juice."

"Coming right up. Do you want a muffin with it?"

Jack nodded and Rossi went to fetch the food and drink.

"Your dad would be so proud of you right now," Rossi told him as Jack ate the muffin without fuss. "And so am I."

To everyone's relief, Jack did not throw up the muffin or the orange juice.

"It's a good sign," Dr. Keyes said brightly. "Well done, Jack."

Jack smiled at the doctor and then looked at Dave.

"Can you keep reading to me? Mr. Reid stopped right when the dwarves were stuck in the jail cells."

Rossi smiled.

"Sure thing, kiddo."

He picked up the book, pulled the chair closer, and began to read.

* * *

By comparison, the morning was quiet in the quarantined house. Dr. Reynolds made his rounds collecting everyone's vitals and then he and Dr. Keyes sat hunched over the desk, looking at requisition forms for supplies and medications to try.

Dave read to Jack until the boy fell asleep and when the older man looked up, he smiled, stuck a page marker in the book, and tucked the blankets around Jack's shoulders.

"Thanks for reading to him," Hotch said quietly and Rossi looked over to the next bed.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Since the barrel escape," answered Hotch, smiling. Rossi chuckled and went to his bedside.

"How are you feeling?"

"My stomach's settled but that's really the only change."

"Good. Jack managed to eat some breakfast this morning."

"That's the best news I've had all day. How's Garcia?"

Hotch had clearly noticed yet another member of his team had joined their ranks.

"I'm not sure," admitted Rossi. "I haven't asked since she was brought down here in the first place. She was in rough shape when Morgan found her."

Hotch glanced down the ward at her and frowned; the lab tech was the only one being provided oxygen through a nasal cannula and she had two IV bags hanging over her head.

"How's the rest of the team?"

"Still healthy, if that's what you mean. Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss are still looking for the answer and Will hasn't really left Henry's side."

Both agents glanced over to see Will fast asleep on Henry's bed.

"That's not the first time he's done that," Dave said.

"I can't blame him, though." Aaron replied. "I'd do the same if I could."

"I know," said Rossi patiently. "But I've been staying with him, so has Reid."

"And I appreciate it."

Rossi smiled.

"You should get some sleep," he said. "Unless I can get you something to eat?"

"No, thanks," Aaron answered quickly.

Dave laughed and said he'd be back later. As Aaron was shifting in his bed trying to get comfortable, Rossi went upstairs. He glanced at his watch and was surprised to see it was already quarter to eleven.

He went into the study and found three quiet, intent-looking agents.

"Any progress?" he asked.

"We've got the list down to about fifty names," Emily answered. "But so far none of them have any connection to the BAU, or even the Bureau for that matter."

"If you don't get anything, try casting a wider net. Look only for people with the knowledge to do something like this – microbiologists, genetic scientists, that kind of thing – and try again. Facilities can be found if the need is desperate enough."

Emily nodded and looked back down over Reid's shoulder at the computer screen.

"What about you?" Rossi asked Morgan.

"I've finished the lists for the BAU," Derek replied. "And I'm working on Henry's but Rossi, this is a ton of people. It was a little easier for us because we interact with so many of the same people but there are tons of possibilities – grocery store clerks, bank attendants, taxi drivers, you name it. It's going to take forever to check them all out."

"Prioritize them," Rossi said. "Start with the ones who show up on more than one list."

"That's not a lot," admitted Morgan. "For the BAU there's a lot of overlap but Will has a completely different routine and don't even get me started on Jack and Henry. Different classes at school, classmates and their parents, teachers, after-school programs, sports on Saturdays."

"There only has to be one that overlaps between us all."

Morgan nodded.

"Then I'll find it. How's Garcia?"

"Sleeping."

"How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"You look exhausted."

"I have long ago learned that sleep can wait until everything is right with the world again."

Morgan raised an eyebrow.

"I also have learned," Rossi sighed. "That my body doesn't agree with this logic."

"Why don't you take a nap?"

"I've never been able to nap."

"Then at least put your feet up and take it easy. We're dropping like flies; you don't want to be next."

"The sad reality is that we have no control over it anymore. Whether or not we get sick is not dependant on how much rest we get or how well we eat."

Morgan thought about that for a minute.

"Hell of a scary thought," he muttered.

"Is it ever," Rossi said. "So let me help you figure out who the one in a million is."

* * *

Two hours later, the four agents had made progress but it was a drop in the bucket. Emily hated cases like this because she always felt they were missing something blaringly obvious.

"Who wants lunch?" Morgan asked, tossing down his pen and notepad. He stretched and his spine cracked.

"Me," Rossi said, leaning back in his chair.

"I'm starving," Emily added.

"Reid? Something to eat?" Morgan repeated.

"No, thanks."

"Kid, you need to eat."

Reid didn't look up from the laptop.

"I don't feel great," he said as if it was just another day at the office and he could work through the discomfort.

Emily met Rossi and Morgan's eyes and then they all looked at Reid.

"Reid, why are you not downstairs then?"

"I want to finish this before they hook me up to an IV and insist on bedrest. It's not too bad yet and I'm of more use here than I am downstairs."

"It doesn't work that way," Emily said. "If you're sick, you need to be treated."

"And preferably before you end up in a state like Garcia," added Derek.

"Come on," Emily literally pulled Reid to his feet. "I'll come down with you and see how everyone's doing."

"And we'll make lunch," Rossi said.

* * *

Reid was less than happy about being put to bed, poked, prodded, and then told to rest.

"I'm not even tired," he mumbled. Emily smiled.

"Would you like a stack of books?"

"Yes."

"And lunch?"

"If I have to."

"You should try."

"Fine."

Emily shook her head and went upstairs. Rossi and Morgan were spooning up bowls of soup.

"Reid's all settled?"

"And extremely unhappy about it," Emily replied. "He wants something to read."

"There are books on the shelves, pick the thickest volume," Rossi advised. Emily laughed but did just that – she found _The Lord of the Rings_, _Les Misérables_, and _Anna Karenina_. She brought them down to Reid.

"There," she said. "That ought to at least get you to tonight."

Reid glanced at them.

"I've read all these."

"Read them again."

"I have an eidetic memory. I don't need to read them again."

Emily rolled her eyes and left Reid to eat his soup. He and Jack were the only ones enjoying lunch – Hotch was valiantly trying for Jack's sake but Emily knew that very little of the soup was going to make it into his stomach and if it did, it wasn't going to stay there long.

"How are you doing?" Emily asked, perching on the end of J.J.'s bed.

"I'm surviving," J.J. answered. "It's not great but it's better than last night."

"Good, I'm glad you're at least feeling a little better."

"It reminds me of being pregnant, actually."

"You felt this terrible?"

"For the first few weeks."

"If that's not effective birth control, I don't know what is."

J.J. laughed.

"It gets better after a while, or you just get used to it." She glanced down the ward; Dr. Reynolds and Dr. Keyes were eating their soup, still preoccupied with forms and research on how to best treat their patients. "Any progress on the case?"

"We're getting there," Emily said loud enough for Hotch to hear as well – he'd turned their way when J.J. asked the question.

"As Rossi put it, we're literally looking for one person in a million – someone we've all had contact with who had the means and ability to do this."

"I imagine the seven of us have very similar circles," Aaron stated. "Try talking to Will again, and Jack and Henry if you can. Whoever this was likely had to go out of their way to interact with those three given the rest of us spend so much time together."

Emily nodded.

"I will after lunch," she said.

* * *

After lunch came and went. Emily had every intention of speaking with Will, Henry, and Jack but things fell apart in a rather disastrous fashion.

It began when Jack threw up his soup and began crying.

"It's alright, Jack," Hotch said, struggling to get out of bed to comfort his son. Morgan and Emily were upstairs cleaning up from lunch and Dr. Keyes was on the phone with the CDC in Atlanta. Dr. Reynolds glanced up but saw both Aaron and Dave responding to the incident and therefore didn't act.

"No, it's not," blubbered Jack. "I was getting better and now I'm sick again."

Hotch found this particularly challenging to deal with and fought with his IV line in order to get to Jack. Finally, he gave up trying to detangle the tube and simply unhooked the tubing from the cannula.

He was already on Jack's bed with Jack's face pressed into his stomach when Dr. Reynolds came hurrying towards him.

"Agent Hotchner," he said sternly. "I can't permit this; you need to be on your medication."

"Just let him have a few minutes with his son," Dave interjected. "The poor boy's scared and sick."

Dr. Reynolds looked very annoyed and Jack looked up.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'm okay. Daddy, you can go back to your bed now."

"It's alright, Jack," Hotch said without even glancing at Dr. Reynolds. "I'll stay with you for a few minutes."

"No," Jack insisted, pulling away from Hotch. "You're going to get in trouble."

Dave shot a pointed look at Dr. Reynolds, who softened slightly.

"It's okay," he said finally. "But just for ten minutes and then I need to get you back on your drip."

Aaron didn't bother to thank the doctor and it was just as well because Jack had immediately hugged his father close again and was sobbing.

"Jack, shh … Jack, it's okay ..."

All of Hotch's attempts at soothing the crying boy were in vain and to be honest, Aaron couldn't blame him. Jack had been sick the longest out of all of them and unlike Henry, he didn't have a parent constantly at his side, holding him until he fell asleep. A pang of guilt washed over Hotch but he tried to swallow it and focus on what he could for Jack in the next ten minutes.

"It's alright," Hotch mused, rubbing Jack's back. Dave watched the heartbreaking scene before leaving them to have some privacy. He saw J.J. watching Hotch and Jack and there were tears in her eyes.

"I wish I could make it easier," Dave said quietly and J.J. nodded.

"Me, too."

After ten minutes had passed, Hotch managed to pry Jack away and tuck him in – Jack had nearly cried himself to sleep anyway – and Dr. Reynolds returned to hook up the IV.

"Thank you for allowing that," Hotch said and the doctor nodded.

"I know it can be hard for young children when they're sick and don't have a parent taking care of them."

Hotch didn't reply – he knew the feeling all too well and it was no easier being the parent leaving a sick child – and tried to relax.

* * *

Will was having just as hard of a time as Hotch was in dealing with this. Of course it helped that Will wasn't bedridden but Henry was so clingy that he barely let go of his dad when he was awake. Henry could see J.J. a few beds away but was too young to understand why he couldn't snuggle with mommy or fall asleep in her bed. He cried endlessly when he was told he couldn't see J.J. and the only thing that made him stop was Will's constant presence. The only time he could leave was if Henry had been given a sedative to ensure he slept.

Of course Will was more than willing to stay with Henry but it was taking its toll on him. The three year old's clinginess and subsequent crying meant that Will was not getting much sleep himself and his sleep cycle was slowly converging with the sporadic naps Henry was taking throughout the day. And of course Will was worried about his son and wife; he more than anyone else had the most at stake in finding a cure.

* * *

As they ate dinner in the kitchen, Emily had forgotten about speaking with Will or the boys but the case was still their topic of conversation.

"I wish there was a faster way to get through all these names," Morgan said. "But there isn't."

"Slow and steady is how this one is going to be solved," replied Rossi. "There's nothing we can do but keep going."

"What if we get sick?" Emily asked. "What if we're slowly wiped out until the entire BAU is sick and there's no one left to find who did this. Then what?"

"Then we call in another unit to take over the search." Rossi said confidently. "But we can't think like that. We're all still healthy and we'll keep working until we find the bastard or die trying."

"That's not funny," Morgan replied.

"Excuse me," Dr. Reynolds appeared in the door to the kitchen. "But once you're done eating, I need to collect blood samples. The messenger from Atlanta will be to collect them in about an hour."

"What happened to the midnight handover?" Morgan asked.

"They pushed the collection forward to accommodate another flight schedule."

This explanation satisfied Morgan and he stood up to follow the doctor into the living room. Emily followed a few moments later and Rossi was last. He sat down in his favourite armchair and rolled up his sleeve. He wasn't paying much attention to what the doctor was doing – in all honesty, he was so tired that he started dozing off almost as soon as he'd sat in the armchair – but he felt the prick of the needle.

"Sorry," Dr. Reynolds apologized a moment later and Dave felt the needle coming back out. "The vein slipped."

Dr. Reynolds went through the process of holding a cotton ball to the injection site and finding a new needle and sterile vial.

"Let's try that again," Dr. Reynolds said. "On three … one, two, three."

The needle went in cleanly this time and after a minute, the vials were filled and Dave rolled down his shirt sleeve.

"Thank you," said Dr. Reynolds, smoothing a sticker label onto the vial. "You feel alright?"

It was a routine question by now.

"I'm fine."

"Good. Be sure to get some sleep tonight."

Dave nodded and left the living room. In the study he found Emily and Morgan back at work and he joined them. He wanted to see how the rest of the team was doing – Jack in particular – but he knew he was of more use here than making small talk at a bedside.

He ended up falling asleep on the couch, a pen in one hand and a piece of paper in the other.

**I have actual plans to finish this out now so it shouldn't be too long for another update – your reviews are very appreciated, thanks! **


	8. A Plot for Revenge

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.**

**Hello for the second night in a row! I have a burning desire to finish this so I just keep writing way past my bedtime. Thank you, as always, for your support and encouragement. It's so good to see old "faces" (usernames) as well as new ones. I hope you enjoy the next chapter! **

When Rossi woke up, the grandfather clock in the hall was chiming for the third time. He stretched, the paper he was holding fluttered to the ground, and his fingers curled around the pen.

The room was dark – Emily and Morgan must have gone to bed, Dave realized – and the final resounding gong from the clock told him it was four o'clock in the morning.

Once Rossi realized where he was, what had happened, and what time it was, a much more serious revelation occurred. He had a fever.

As soon as he'd realized that, he realized there were a million other health discomforts which were begging for his attention. His throat was dry, his head was aching, his stomach was rolling around uncomfortably, and his skin felt like it had a thousand pins stuck into it.

Knowing there was nothing to do but face it, Rossi eased himself into a standing position – vertigo, another symptom – and hobbled towards the stairs feeling like an old(er) man.

Dr. Reynolds was on the night shift and glanced toward the stairs when Rossi appeared. He must've thought Dave was here to visit one of the other agents or Jack or Henry because he simply nodded to acknowledge his presence and then returned to the book he was reading.

"Doctor?" Rossi asked and Dr. Reynolds looked up again. "I'm sick."

Dr. Reynolds frowned.

"Come lie down," he said, standing and ushering Rossi to the bed next to Reid. There were only three empty ones left now. Dave kicked off his shoes and gratefully fell onto the mattress and Dr. Reynolds laid the back of his hand on Rossi's forehead.

"You've got a fever."

He retrieved the thermometer which proudly displayed the numbers 100.6.

"What else are you feeling?"

Rossi walked through his symptoms and Dr. Reynolds conducted a few more tests but they both knew the diagnosis.

"We'll have to wait for the blood tests to confirm it," said Dr. Reynolds. "But we'll start you on the same course of treatment as your co-workers."

Thirty minutes later, Rossi was wearing the same patterned hospital gowns as Hotch, J.J., Garcia, and Reid, had been tucked into bed properly, and had an IV taped to his forearm.

"I can give you a sedative if you'd like," Dr. Reynolds offered. "Though it will mess up your natural sleep cycle given the hour."

"I'll take it."

Dave wanted to sleep – he didn't care about sleep cycles – mostly because he didn't want to face a day of boredom stuck in bed. At least this way he'd pass a minimum of eight hours.

* * *

"What time did you go to bed?" Morgan asked Will a few hours later as they sat at the island in the kitchen sipping cups of coffee and eating breakfast.

"I think it was around two o'clock," Will answered. "I'm not sure exactly. Dr. Keyes woke me up and sent me upstairs."

"How's Henry doing?" Emily asked sympathetically.

"Alright," sighed Will. "At least the doctors think he'll be okay. He's responded a little bit to one of the antiviral medications – not as much as they were hoping but it's better than not at all. I think he's more scared than anything else, sleeping in a strange place and surrounded by medical equipment."

"Does it help having J.J. down there all the time with him?"

"I'd say it makes it worse," replied Will. "J.J. is coping with this in her own way but she can't actively be taking care of Henry. The doctors won't let her."

"But try explaining that to Henry," Morgan continued, stirring a pot of yogurt with a spoon.

"Exactly," Will agreed. "He just doesn't understand. He knows mommy is sick but he doesn't like seeing her but not being able to be with her."

"I don't blame him," Emily said. "Is it alright if one of us tries to ask him about what happened in the days before he got sick? It's a long shot but we're trying to narrow down the list of possible unsubs."

"Of course," Will said. "I'll do what I can as well."

"Great," said Derek. "We'd better get a move on."

"Should we wake Rossi?" asked Emily. "He's not in the study so I'm assuming he went up to his room at some point during the night."

"Let him sleep for a few more hours," Derek answered. "He was exhausted yesterday."

Morgan led the way down to the great room and everyone was surprised – at least at first – to see Rossi in the bed next to Reid's.

"How long has he been here?" Morgan asked Dr. Keyes.

"Dr. Reynolds said he came down around four o'clock saying he wasn't feeling well. He took a sedative and will likely sleep for most of the morning."

"Is it serious?"

"Not yet," the doctor replied. "He had a low grade fever and very basic flu-like symptoms when he came down. Don't worry, Agent Morgan, we'll watch him closely."

"And how are the others?"

"They've stabilized, more or less. Today will be important in seeing if the antiviral medications are effective on this altered strain."

Morgan nodded as he glanced down the ward. It was harder than he thought it'd be seeing his team members like this. All of them had been in hospital at one point or another so the idea of vulnerability wasn't the problem. It was difficult seeing them all laid low at once, though. They'd always gotten through bad things – accidents, deaths, attacks, sickness – by supporting each other but how were they supposed to get through this when they all needed support from each other but were unable to give it?

"Agent Morgan?" Dr. Keyes asked. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine," Morgan broke away from his thoughts. "Do you mind if we visit for a few minutes?"

Dr. Keyes smiled.

"Of course not."

Will had already gone to Henry and Emily and Derek walked the length of the room together.

"Everything okay?" Prentiss asked again and Derek nodded.

"Just thinking."

They stopped at the end of the room. Will was already talking with Henry and Emily and Derek glanced at each other.

"You talk to Henry, I'll talk to Jack." Derek said.

They split ways and Emily knelt next to Henry's bed.

"Hi Henry," she said quietly.

"Hi."

"Is it okay if I ask you a couple of questions?"

Henry nodded.

"Do you remember the day before you got sick?"

Nod.

"Did you go to school?" Emily knew it was more of a nursery school than proper preschool but she kept her questions basic.

Nod.

"Can you tell me what you did at school?"

Shrug.

"Let's see," Will spoke up. "It was Tuesday, that's show and tell day. Do you remember whose turn it was?"

The little boy thought – he had the same little worry line between his eyes that J.J. also had when she was thinking hard – and then nodded.

"Becca," he said. "She brought her kazoo."

"Did she play it for you?" Emily asked.

Nod.

"Did you get to play outside?"

Nod.

"Do you remember what you had for lunch?"

A shake of the head.

"He didn't eat much," Will informed her. "Most of it came home with him."

Emily looked back at Henry.

"Do you remember why you didn't want to eat lunch? Was your tummy sore?"

"I ate a cupcake instead of my sandwich. I got in trouble."

"Cupcake?" Emily repeated, glancing at Will. He shrugged. "Was it someone's birthday?"

"No. It was in my lunchbox."

"What does your lunchbox look like?" Emily asked.

"It has Spiderman on it."

"That sounds pretty cool," continued Emily. "Does anyone else have a lunchbox with Spiderman on it?"

"Nuh-uh. James has one with Batman."

"I see. Henry, you've done really well. Thank you for letting me ask a few questions."

Henry nodded and Emily stood up.

"I'll be right back, Henry," Will said, following her until there was a little bit of space between his bed and where they were standing.

"Did you pack a cupcake in his lunchbox?"

"No."

"Do you always make his lunch?"

"Every day. J.J. and I don't let him have that kind of stuff for lunch – only as special treats."

"And do know if what he said is true – are there other Spiderman lunchboxes?"

"Not that I've seen."

"Daddy?" Henry called and Emily smiled sympathetically.

"It's alright," she said. "I'll talk to Morgan but I think we may have just made the first step in figuring out who this is."

Will nodded and returned to Henry's bed while Emily joined Derek.

"Hi Jack," she said and Jack smiled at her shyly. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay."

"Good."

"We were just talking about school," Derek filled her in. "He's telling me about the kids in his class."

Emily smiled.

"Jack, can I ask you something? It might seem like an odd question but it's really important you try to remember, okay?"

Jack nodded.

"Can you tell me what you had for lunch at school the day before you got sick? Think back to the Friday before your tummy started hurting."

Derek raised a discreet eyebrow at Emily while Jack thought and Emily held up a finger to indicate she'd tell him why she'd asked in a minute.

"A peanut-butter and jelly sandwich, some apple slices, and some chocolate pudding."

"Did you have anything to drink?"

"Chocolate milk."

Emily smiled.

"Was your pudding dessert or do you get a different treat for a snack?"

"Just pudding," Jack replied and Emily felt her excitement die slightly.

"You didn't have anything else to eat at school? Did someone have a birthday?"

"No birthday cake," Jack told her. "But I did have a cupcake for snack time."

Emily's eyes came to life and Derek knew just by looking at her that something had struck.

"Was the cupcake from your lunchbox or did someone give it to you?"

"It was in my lunchbox."

Emily repeated her questions about the lunchboxes – Jack had Captain America (what was it with little boys and superhero lunchboxes? she wondered) – and then told Jack he'd done a good job at remembering.

"Does that help?" Jack asked. "Daddy says you guys ask silly questions because the answers sometimes help you find who you're looking for."

Emily nodded.

"It does help. A lot," she added and Jack beamed.

"You should get some sleep, little man," Derek said. "And I'll come visit you later to keep reading, how's that?"

Jack nodded his approval and laid down, Morgan tucking the blankets around him.

"What's up?" he asked Emily as soon as they were out of Jack's earshot.

"Henry had a cupcake in his lunchbox the day before he got sick, too. Will said he didn't put it there."

"We need to talk to Hotch."

"He's sleeping."

"I don't care," Morgan said. "He won't care."

Emily couldn't argue against that because she knew it was true.

"I'm going to call Kevin," said Morgan. "And get his help in finding the security footage from Jack and Henry's schools. You talk to Hotch."

Morgan hurried away and Emily approached their sleeping boss. She looked over her shoulder; Dr. Keyes wasn't paying attention to them.

"Hotch," she said quietly, gently shaking his shoulder. "Hotch, wake up."

Aaron's eyes opened and he saw Emily standing over him.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Is Jack okay?"

"Shh," Emily put a finger to her lips. "Jack is fine. Morgan and I have a lead but I need to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"Do you normally send a cupcake in Jack's school lunch?"

"What?"

Emily couldn't blame him for being confused – it was an odd question and he'd just been woken up.

"A cupcake," she repeated patiently. "Did you pack a cupcake in his lunch the Friday before he got sick?"

"No." Hotch said. "No, never."

Emily smiled.

"That's what I needed to hear. Go back to sleep, Hotch."

Aaron's eyes slid closed even though he wanted to ask more questions – the sedative was still working a little bit – and Emily covered his shoulders with the blanket before quickly leaving the great room.

In the study, Morgan was on the phone.

"Just find out what there is and get it," he said impatiently. "And if there's nothing inside the school, get me any CCTV for the surrounding area."

Kevin must've asked what he was looking for because Morgan replied with, "Someone going into the school before lunchtime. For the nursery school, it would have been last Tuesday and the elementary school it would have been the Friday before that."

Morgan listened for a moment, thanked Kevin, and hung up.

"Hotch didn't send Jack with a cupcake," Emily told him immediately.

"Kevin said he'd do what he can to get any sort of visitor footage," Derek shared. "But it'll likely take a while given it's a Saturday."

"How is it Saturday already?" Emily asked.

"Beats me. But let's work this angle."

Emily went to the door and closed it before turning back to Morgan.

"Okay, Jack eats a cupcake for snack on Friday and gets sick on Sunday evening but Henry doesn't eat a cupcake until Tuesday at lunch and gets sick on Wednesday morning."

"That's a shorter period of time between eating a cupcake and getting sick."

"Maybe Jack was the test," Emily suggested. "And once the unsub saw how long it would take to get sick from eating a cupcake, he put more of the virus into Henry's cupcake."

Morgan nodded.

"That makes sense," he said. "Alright, Jack gets sick Sunday and Henry on Wednesday. From there, Hotch got sick Thursday afternoon, J.J. Thursday night, Garcia on Friday morning, Reid Friday afternoon, and Rossi Friday night. That's one hell of an escalation."

"But apart from Jack and Henry, no one else has eaten cupcakes. How did they get sick?"

"We know that the manipulated strain requires direct and purposeful contact which means that Hotch and everyone else were deliberately chosen to get sick."

"And if the unsub had been using Jack as a test to see how long the incubation period is, he could also have planned the order of who got sick first," Emily speculated.

"How, though? The only people that we've had contact with since Thursday have been each other and the doctors."

"We ran background checks on the doctors, everything came back clear."

"Alright," Morgan was pacing. "Let's assume the unsub, after Jack's test, wanted to make sure the incubation period was less than 24 hours. He'd know how much of the virus to use to ensure someone got sick on schedule, right?"

"Right," Emily said. "They'd probably even have the math skills to be able to account for body weight and size when administering a dose."

"None of these victims,"

"Can we not call them that, please?" Emily interrupted. "They're our friends."

"None of these attacks were random," Derek corrected. "They were perfectly timed out."

"So what does the …" Emily searched for a different word but couldn't find one. "Fine, what does the victimology pattern tell us?"

"He started with children and then targeted their parents."

"That's not true. Hotch and J.J. got sick but if the unsub is targeting parents, why didn't Will get sick as well?"

"And instead Garcia got sick."

"She took care of Henry," Emily recalled. "Will had to go to work and Garcia went to stay with him. And," she added. "She's his godmother."

"Garcia's also a member of the BAU," pointed out Morgan. "If the unsub is targeting BAU members, he wouldn't care about poisoning Will."

"That would make sense with Reid, too. He's Henry's godfather."

"Another surrogate parent who is part of the BAU," Derek mused. "But what about Rossi? He doesn't fit the pattern."

Emily frowned.

"And he got sick last …"

Emily glanced around.

"Do we have copies of the test results from Thursday and Friday?"

"We have Thursday's for sure. Those were the ones that came in during the middle of the night. I don't think Friday's blood tests are here yet – the messenger won't come until this afternoon."

"We need to see those results."

"Why? What are you thinking?"

"If we're right about the incubation period, then Thursday's test results would show that Hotch and J.J. were infected – which, of course, we already knew because they were feeling sick. But even though Garcia, Reid, and Rossi weren't showing symptoms yet, their blood would still test positive for the strain."

"If Rossi's blood test from Thursday was negative," Derek immediately saw where Emily was heading with this train of thought and continued it. "Then we know he wasn't poisoned until after the first blood sample was taken when we were placed in quarantine. I'll call Kevin and see if he can get the results of Friday's blood tests."

Morgan unclipped his phone from his belt.

"I'm going to find the ones from Thursday," Emily said, walking swiftly towards the door. She hurried downstairs.

"Excuse me," she said to Dr. Keyes. "But can I please see the lab results from Thursday's blood work?"

Dr. Keyes looked surprised but pulled the files from a drawer in the desk.

"Are you looking for something in particular?" she asked and Emily suspected the doctor had deduced they were investigating their own case.

"Can you tell me who tested positive on Thursday?"

Dr. Keyes flipped through the papers.

"Jack and Henry, of course, as well as Agents Hotchner and Jareau."

"What about Agents Reid and Garcia?"

The doctor shuffled more papers.

"Positive," she confirmed.

"And what about Agent Rossi?"

Another pause.

"Negative."

"Thank you," Emily said, turning abruptly to go back upstairs. Morgan was still on the phone when Emily returned and she waited impatiently until he hung up.

"Rossi's blood results from last night test positive," he said.

"And they were negative on Thursday." Emily told him. "Which means Rossi wasn't poisoned until after we were placed in quarantine."

"It has to be one of the doctors, Emily. There's no other way."

"But we checked them."

"We'll check them again."

They were both leaning over the computer when there was a knock on the door. Emily and Derek exchanged glances before Derek opened the door a few inches to see who it was.

Dr. Keyes was standing there.

"I have to speak with you," she said, glancing over her shoulder nervously. "Quickly."

Derek let her in and closed the door behind her. Dr. Keyes was pale and looked at Emily.

"What you were asking me downstairs, it doesn't make sense. Agent Rossi's blood results from Thursday are negative and yet he is sick now. If the strain can only be communicated through direct contact that means someone infected him in the last 24 hours."

Emily nodded.

"We know."

At that moment, Morgan's phone rang. He answered it and went to the far corner of the room while Emily continued talking with Dr. Keyes.

"I know how investigations like this work," Dr. Keyes continued fearfully. "And I promise you that I have nothing to do with it. I don't want to point fingers but you should know that I found it very strange that Pax was sent here with me. He has some medical training but he mostly works in the lab. I don't know how he convinced the CDC to assign him to this case but like I said, I found it odd."

Emily had begun writing notes on a legal pad.

"Do you know him well?"

"Not really," Dr. Keyes answered. "He's socially awkward; he doesn't come to the department parties or anything like that. We hardly ever see him … I guess now we know what he's been doing."

While Emily was writing frantically, Morgan was speaking with Kevin.

"What do you have?" Morgan asked.

"I found the footage you wanted," Kevin told him over the phone. "Both schools have a security camera in the main office and all visitors have to sign in there. The same man appears at both and the visitor logs say he's there with a birthday surprise for his nephew."

"What's the name on the log?"

"Joshua Antonov."

"And you have a visual?"

"I'm running facial recognition now to see if the name is legit but I've sent the information to your tablets."

"One second," Morgan hurried to the desk and picked up a tablet. He scrolled through the images, found the one Kevin had sent him, and found himself looking at Dr. Reynolds.

"Find everything you can on him," Morgan told the lab tech before hanging up. He held the tablet up for Emily and Dr. Keyes to see.

"Dr. Reynolds," he said. "Signing a visitor log at Jack's school last Friday. He did the same thing at Henry's school on Tuesday."

Dr. Keyes was visibly shaken.

"He did it, didn't he? He's the one who has been making all of you sick."

Morgan nodded but it was Emily who spoke.

"We need to proceed carefully," she said. "We need to collect a little bit more evidence before we can do anything about him."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Act naturally," Morgan instructed. "And I know this isn't fair to you, but we can't leave Dr. Reynolds alone with anyone."

"I won't leave the ward," promised Dr. Keyes. "I'll go back right now."

She quickly left the study and Morgan closed the door behind her again, locking it this time.

"We need to find out everything we can about him," Emily said after sharing what Dr. Keyes had told her about Dr. Reynolds.

"Kevin is already on it," Morgan said as his phone rang a second time.

"You're on speaker," he said to Kevin.

"Alright," Kevin began. "This guy has a complicated past. His full name is Joshua Paxton Antonov, born 1979. His father, Jared Antonov, was a member of the BAU but died in 1998. His mother, Claire Reynolds, died of cancer when he was three and his father remarried the following year."

"Dr. Keyes calls him Paxton," Emily interrupted. "And he must go by his mother's maiden name. That's why our initial check didn't turn up anything."

"His new step-mother," Kevin continued. "Named Sophie, had a daughter Joshua's age called Sara and Sophie and Jared had two more children, Lucy and Connor."

"What about education?"

"Up until university, his school records show a troubled but smart boy. His teachers wrote he was moody and lacked discipline. A school counsellor's report says he was bullied by Sara – Sophie's daughter – and there was suspected child abuse from his parents but never enough to warrant further investigation. Academically, though, he was brilliant. We're talking straight A's."

"What about after high school?"

"He moved away," Kevin answered. "After he graduated – he was valedictorian – he left Virginia and completed a Bachelor's of Science at Berkley on scholarship, followed by a Master's and PhD in microbiology from Stanford."

"What about a job?"

"He's worked for a handful of pharmaceutical companies, all reputable names, and two years ago started at the CDC in Atlanta."

"What does he do there?"

"He works in the lab … influenza."

Emily and Morgan exchange a glance.

"Thanks, Kevin," Morgan said. "I need one more thing."

"Anything."

"I need you to contact Erin Strauss and explain what's going on. Mobilize back-up to surround Rossi's house. I don't know how this guy plans on going out but he sure as hell isn't going to get away on my watch."

Kevin promised to take care of it and once the call was ended, Emily and Derek began piecing it all together.

"His father was a member of the BAU," Emily said. "That means he was likely gone a lot. If Sophie didn't do anything about Sara bullying Joshua, she was likely the source of the suspected child abuse."

"His dad died when he was," Morgan consulted the notes Kevin had forwarded on the tablet. "Nineteen, just before he left for university."

"That's the perfect age to get out of dodge and make a new start," Emily said. "And he flourished in his new environment. Got the degrees and had a high profile career."

"But he never let go of the resentment towards his father," Morgan concluded. "He blames the BAU for ensuring his father was never home long enough to address the bullying or the abuse."

"But why Jack and Henry?" Emily asked. "Why not just us?"

"Because he wants to make a point," answered Derek. "He wants us to see how detrimental it can be to have a parent who is away so often. He's making the parents suffer."

"But Garcia, Reid, and Rossi aren't parents."

"No, but Garcia and Reid are godparents."

"What about Rossi?"

Morgan thought and all of a sudden, like a beacon of light on a dark day, he heard Jack's voice calling out "Uncle Dave!"

"Jack calls him 'Uncle'," Morgan announced. "When Reynolds heard this, he probably assumed Rossi must be close and decided he wanted to make him share in the suffering."

"How did he poison them?"

"It had to be the needles. The vaccine we got when we arrived."

"And when he took Rossi's blood last night," Emily realized. "He likely used the opportunity to infect his last-minute victim."

Morgan nodded and glanced at his phone. There was a text from Kevin.

"Back-up is all in place," Morgan announced. "But we still need to find Reynolds's cure."

"We'll have to negotiate with him." Emily sighed. She didn't like the idea of bartering with someone who poisoned children to make a point and she especially didn't like it when her teammates and friends were relying on information only this guy knew.

"What was his trigger?" asked Morgan. "We know his motives and how he did it but why? What happened for him to decide now was the time to take action and teach the BAU a lesson?"

Emily scanned the dates.

"No significant anniversaries or anything," she commented. "But does it matter why? We know it was him."

"True," Morgan sighed. He didn't like not knowing why. "We should go check on everyone, make sure everything is alright."

Emily nodded agreement and they had just reached the door when they heard a terrified scream from the basement.

… **what do you think? A lot of reviewers have started guessing correctly about Dr. Reynolds so well done! I have plans for one more chapter and maybe an epilogue to conclude this story so please review – it's highly appreciated! **


	9. Reliance and Resilience

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.**

**Hello and welcome back! Thank you, as always, for such kind reviews – a much needed smile this week. As the story was left on a cliff-hanger, I won't say much more. Enjoy! **

"Dr. Reynolds," Morgan heard Hotch's voice, lacking its strong authority though it was, as he crept down the stairs with his gun drawn. "Put down the gun, let her go."

"Why should I?" Dr. Reynolds demanded hysterically. "She's a traitor."

"No, she isn't," Derek called out. He descended the last few stairs and turned the corner, swinging his gun out at arms' length. Dr. Reynolds was holding Dr. Keyes in front of him, a gun pressed into her side.

"Put the gun down," Morgan repeated, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Hotch had sunk onto his bed again.

"Why should I?"

Again, out of the corner of his eye, Morgan saw Will put a finger to his lips while looking at Henry and motioned for him to get out of bed and hide underneath it but the three year old was too sick to do anything with a great deal of stealth.

"Don't move!" yelled Dr. Reynolds, still holding Dr. Keyes but swinging the gun to point towards Henry. J.J. let out an audible gasp. "If anyone moves, she dies."

"Okay," Morgan said patiently. "Okay, no one is going anywhere. Put down the gun."

"Why should I?" Dr. Reynolds repeated angrily, turning the gun towards Morgan.

"It's not her fault," answered Derek. "Everything that happened to you when you were young, it's not her fault."

"What do you know about what happened to me?" spat Dr. Reynolds.

"You'd be surprised."

"Surprise me."

Morgan knew he had to keep Reynolds talking.

"Your father was SSA Jared Antonov," he began. "And your mother died when you were only three. Your step-mother and step-sister bullied and abused you but your dad was never home enough to notice or do anything about it."

"She didn't abuse me."

"We saw the notes from the school counsellor, Joshua," Morgan told him. "We know about the abuse and the bullying."

"Oh yeah?" Joshua demanded and Morgan could sense the smallest hint of emotion in his voice, a sign that he was starting to break Dr. Reynolds into submission. "Did you see what else the school reports said?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

The ward was absolutely silent – Henry and Jack were frozen in fear and the members of the BAU knew not to disrupt the communication Derek was fostering.

"Did you take note, _Agent_," the emphasis made it sound like mockery. "Of how many days a year the school nurse sent me home?"

Morgan's silence prompted a sinister laugh.

"No? It was a lot."

"Why?"

"I was just a sick child," said Joshua. "Ear infections, colds, tonsillitis, bronchitis, chicken pox, strep throat, the flu … you name it, I got it at one point or another. I would beg the nurse to let me stay at school because there was no one to take care of me at home."

"Sophie was there, so were Lucy and Connor and Sara."

"Sara," laughed Joshua. "Sara didn't care about anyone but herself. In fact, she made fun of people like me. The smart ones who cared about homework and tried to be the best but always failed. She never cared about me and still doesn't now that she has her perfect job, her perfect husband, living in her dream house with her perfect children."

"What about Lucy and Connor? They cared, didn't they?"

"They were too young to care about me," Joshua said bitterly. "I was just a strange person who shut himself in his room and didn't talk at meal times. Besides, they became the new apples of my father's eye."

"And what about Sophie? All those times the school nurse called home, surely it was Sophie she spoke to."

"The conversations were always the same. 'How bad is he? Can he make it through the day? I'm in the middle of something important and it would be hard for me to come and get him.' Something important, my ass! She stayed at home and lived off my dad's hard-earned money. The nurse would tell her that no, I had a fever or I had thrown up and needed to go home and Sophie would sigh and then say she'd be there as soon as she could."

Joshua stopped for a breath. He was emotionally invested in telling Morgan his story, sharing it with so much conviction that it almost seemed as if he needed the world to know what he had suffered before he was silenced.

"And when we'd get home, I'd put myself to bed and go to sleep, thinking that when I woke up, my dad would be there saying everything would be okay, that I would feel better tomorrow. But he was never there. Did you hear me? He was _never_ there. I remember how I used to stupidly hope that if he found out I was sick, he'd leave his investigation to make sure I was okay. I used to wish on every star I saw, every four leaf clover I held, that one day he would take a day off to stay with me."

"But he never did."

"I begged him to," Joshua recalled. "I told him I was going to get sick but he'd always say, 'Josh, I have a job to do. Sophie is home and she'll take care of you just like mom used to.' He actually thought that _woman_ was my _mother_."

At this point in the conversation, it was taking every ounce of willpower Hotch had not to look at his son. He knew all too well the emotions that went along with being a single parent to a little boy who wanted him to stay home when something was wrong. He very rarely sympathized with unsubs but he was beginning to understand why Joshua Reynolds had chosen to act the way he did. It didn't make it right, of course, just … relatable.

"Is that why you decided to poison our children?" Morgan asked. "Why you snuck into their schools and put cupcakes contaminated by a manipulated strain of avian flu into their lunchboxes?"

"I didn't do it to hurt them!" Joshua exclaimed. "I did it so people like you," he glared at the bedridden agents. "Would remember what's important in this world! It's not the job or the fancy office; it's not even the justice that comes from putting bad people in prison. These are your children!"

"And we take care of them." Morgan shot back, anger filling his voice.

"No, you abandon them. All of you have."

Joshua looked down the ward again and Morgan realized what he was going to do.

"Aaron Hotchner," Joshua said with contempt, repositioning the gun so it no longer pointed at Morgan but was embedded in Dr. Keyes's side. "You've been leaving your son since the day he was born. You missed doctor appointments and soccer games and school plays. Even when he wasn't well, you left him with his mother. And then his mother died because of what you do and poor Jack was left with his aunt!"

"I took time off when he got sick this week." Aaron fought to control his voice. Showing emotion would only justify Joshua's taunting.

"Because his aunt was away! Tell me, if Jessica hadn't been on vacation, would you have stayed with Jack? Would you?"

"I …" Hotch found this incredibly hard to answer because the truth was, he likely wouldn't have stayed home. That's why Jessica was there – to help take care of Jack – but that in no way meant he didn't care about his son.

"Exactly." Joshua didn't wait for a fuller reply and he shifted his attention to J.J. "And you, you leave your son and husband alone all the time."

"We decided that's what work best for our family." Will spoke up.

"Shut up," growled Joshua, digging the gun further into Dr. Keyes's side to remind everyone that he was still holding her hostage. The doctor yelped unconsciously but Joshua didn't seem to notice.

"Your boy could barely sit up before you were leaving him," Joshua continued. J.J. didn't answer but maintained eye contact with him.

"I tried to make you stay home with your children; I tried to make you remember what's important!" Joshua shouted. "But you didn't. Instead, you went to New Mexico and left Penelope Garcia to baby-sit your sick kids."

"That's not true," Morgan rebuked. "Hotch stayed home with Jack."

"Were you not listening?! He didn't have a choice and he even had to ask Agent Jareau what he should do – should he even bother to take the day off? What if a case came in?"

"So you made our children sick so to see if we would do the right thing and stay home with them." Aaron said coldly.

"You failed the test," Joshua spat. "You are no better than my over-worked, over-zealous father who couldn't even take one day off to stay home with his sick son."

"So what did you do next?"

"I had to punish you," said Joshua simply. "I had to make you stay home and I had to make you suffer for your selfishness."

"You made us sick as well."

"Yes."

"What about Garcia, Reid, and me?" Rossi asked. "Why did you think we needed to be punished?"

"You're no better than Agents Hotchner and Jareau," said Joshua dismissively. "You all care about these children – some as godparents, some as adoptive aunts and uncles – but none of you stuck around long enough to take care of them. I watched it unfold over and over again; you cared but you always left. You abandoned them. It was then that I realized this epidemic of selfishness is worse than I thought, that the attitude of the Behavioural Analysis Unit is endemic, extending beyond simply parents. More drastic action needed to be taken."

"So you dosed them all while supposedly administering a vaccine for avian flu," Morgan filled in. "Except for Rossi. You poisoned him last night while taking a blood sample."

"I admit Agent Rossi was a last-minute decision but he deserves to be in that bed. He left just like the rest of them."

"Why not Will?" asked J.J. "He's also Henry's parent."

"He's not a member of the BAU," Joshua replied. "And while he did leave Henry with Agent Garcia on Wednesday morning, from my observations he is normally a loving and dedicated father who puts his child before his job."

"And what about Emily and me?" Morgan asked.

"You two have the least significant connection to Jack and Henry. You both also know what it's like to have parents who didn't care. Maybe that's why you subconsciously choose not to become so personally invested with Jack and Henry."

Morgan had to admit he and Emily hadn't factored that as a reason for why they were poisoned but it was true to an extent. He could remember times growing up where he was sick and alone.

* * *

"How long do you want us to wait?" an agent in SWAT gear asked Emily.

"Wait for the signal," Emily hissed, watching Morgan talking with Joshua through a pair of binoculars. "Just make sure you have a clear shot."

* * *

"Now that you've made your point," Morgan said. "What are you going to do?"

For the first time, Joshua looked unsure of himself. Morgan took the opportunity to press harder.

"You've made this deadly form of avian flu and its antidote," Morgan urged. "What are you going to do with it?"

"I didn't say anything about an antidote."

"But you did make one."

"How do you know?"

"Because," Morgan answered. "Jack and Henry are innocent. They've done nothing wrong apart from having a parent in the BAU and as mad as you are about the way their parents are prioritizing their commitments, you have no reason to let them die of avian flu. Murdering two innocent little boys is not what you set out to do."

There was a brief pause.

"Jack and Henry are innocent, as is Dr. Keyes," Morgan continued. "You have no reason to kill them which means you must have an antidote."

"Henry and Jack might be innocent enough," snarled Joshua. "But what about their parents?"

"You grew up without your mother and your father was never around but you said it yourself – you begged him to stay home. You still loved your father even though he left you with Sophie all those times you were sick. You wouldn't take Hotch and J.J. from Jack and Henry and sentence them to that sort of life."

Another pause. Joshua was struggling for words and Morgan knew he'd hit on the truth – Joshua had never been in this to kill anyone. He only wanted to make them suffer.

Joshua pressed the gun further into Dr. Keyes's side and the doctor, who was pale and sweating profusely, squeezed her eyes closed, anticipating the worst. She was caught off guard when a minute later, the gun was pulled away from her side and she was shoved towards Morgan. Morgan caught her and quickly stepped in front of her. In those few seconds, Joshua had dropped the gun onto the desk and pulled a loaded needle from his pocket. He popped the top off and held it above his own bare forearm.

"Whoa!" Morgan exclaimed. "Don't do it, Josh."

"Why not?" Joshua demanded. "I know how this works. If I give you the antidote, you're going to arrest me and I'm going to spend the rest of my life in prison."

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want us to move in?" the SWAT leader asked Emily.

"Not yet."

* * *

"Joshua, put the needle down."

"Give me one good reason I should." Joshua was persistent and Morgan chose to draw on the profile they had built.

"You thrive in showing that you can control things no man should have power over – life and death, sickness and health. You want the world to see that you have the power, the skills, and the ability to make people fall before you but that's not where you get your real high. After all, anyone can make people fall. It takes a real genius to make them rise up again and that's what you can do. You've created something deadly but you've also made something even more powerful than death – you've created a way to defeat death. You wouldn't throw so much power away by taking your own life."

Morgan waited to see if he'd gotten through to Joshua, the tension building with every passing second.

"Do the right thing and we can help you," added Derek.

"The antidote is locked in the safe in my lab in Atlanta," Joshua said at last. "The combination is 4663."

As he said this, he pushed the plunger on the needle down and the liquid entered his veins. It only took a split second for him to slump to the ground and Morgan holstered his gun quickly and hurried to his side.

* * *

"Do not shoot, I repeat do not shoot!" Emily said into her walkie-talkie. "All agents move in!"

* * *

Will hurried towards Morgan and Dr. Keyes as they bent over Joshua.

"He's unconscious," Dr. Keyes said, springing into action. While she, Morgan, and Will tried to resuscitate Josh, J.J. and Hotch quickly got out of their beds – it was faster to unhook the IV than to try to take it with them – and hurried to their children.

"Shh," Aaron soothed Jack. "Look this way."

At that moment, the front door of the house burst open and they could hear boots thundering all around the main floor. A team of SWAT agents poured down the staircase.

"Get an ambulance!" Morgan shouted. As a few of the SWAT team surrounded Joshua, who still being worked on by Dr. Keyes, the others hurried down the ward, securing the area. Emily followed a few paces behind.

"Is everyone alright?" she asked, frantically running towards Hotch and J.J.

"We're fine," Aaron answered, holding Jack tightly. "Is he …"

"Alive," Emily replied. "An ambulance is already outside and Chief Strauss is on the phone with Atlanta to get the antidote up here as soon as possible."

"Thanks, Emily. You and Morgan did a good job."

Emily smiled soberly.

"There was a lot at stake," she said.

* * *

Two hours later, the SWAT teams had cleared out, Joshua had been taken to the nearest hospital, and another doctor from the Center for Disease Control – Dr. Arnold – had finished administering the antidote.

"You should begin to feel the effects within twelve hours," he announced with a warm smile. "But it will take at least a few days before you begin to feel like your normal selves. This flu strain was a nasty one and your bodies have been through a lot of trauma because of it."

"Do we need to stay in quarantine?" J.J. asked and the doctor nodded.

"You're not contagious or a threat to public health," he answered. "But for the sake of tracking your progress, we would like you to stay here until we feel comfortable sending you back to your own homes. Dr. Keyes has opted to stay with you and I will be joining her."

"And so will we," Morgan added from the side, Emily nodding next to him.

As the doctors returned to their desk, Morgan went over to Hotch.

"You okay?" he asked, sitting on the end of his bed. Aaron sighed and Morgan nodded.

"I suspected as such," he said before Hotch had even uttered a word. "He was pretty rough on you."

Aaron nodded.

"It wasn't true, you know that."

"Some of it was."

Morgan frowned.

"You're a good father."

"Do you think I would have stayed home with Jack if Jessica hadn't been away?"

"What?"

Hotch repeated the question that had been weighing on his mind since the SWAT team arrived.

"Hotch, you and Jessica take care of Jack the best way you know how. You might not have stayed home but you certainly wouldn't have left him with someone who didn't love and care about him as much as you do."

"Does it make me a bad father to leave him sometimes?"

"No." Morgan's answer was firm. "Not even remotely because even though you leave him sometimes, you always go home to him. You are not like Jared Antonov and Jack is not going to grow up to be like Joshua. There is too much love in this family for that to happen to him or Henry or any other child that comes along."

Hotch smiled a thin smile.

"I suppose you're right."

"I am right," Morgan corrected. "Get some rest, Hotch. I'll stay with Jack."

"Thanks."

Derek nodded and stood up. As Hotch rolled onto his side, he saw Derek approach Jack's bed.

"Hey Jack," he said quietly. "Do you mind if I snuggle with you for a while?"

Jack shook his head and the last thing Aaron saw before closing his eyes was his son nestled into Derek's strong arm.

* * *

Recovery was slow, there was no doubt about it.

"How can they be eating so much already?" Hotch mumbled as a few beds down, Reid, Garcia, and Rossi readily at their lunch. Only a day had passed since the antidote was administered but already those three were showing marked improvement.

"You remember what Dr. Keyes explained," Emily said with a gentle smile. She was perched on the edge of J.J.'s bed and J.J. was looking as nauseous as Hotch was at the idea of food. "Joshua gave you two a higher dose than the others."

"At least Jack and Henry are on the mend," J.J. glanced over at the two boys who were on Henry's bed, Derek sitting between them with a picture book open. Dr. Arnold and Dr. Keyes had warned that the boys' prognosis could go one of two ways: it would either be very slow because of how sick they were or it would be remarkably fast because of the resiliency of their young immune systems. Everyone was relieved when the latter proved to be true.

"Is there any word on Joshua's condition?" Hotch asked, simply to get his mind off of food.

"The doctors confirmed he gave himself a lethal dose of his own strain," Emily told him. "He's still alive but he's rejected treatment. The doctors think he'll die within the week."

"Is there any word on how he knew about Jessica being away and all the details of our latest case?"

"Kevin did some investigating and found evidence that he tapped the phone lines. Pretty advanced stuff, apparently. He's working on writing a new code for against phone hacking or something like that. I didn't understand it all."

"Did he always plan to commit suicide?" J.J. wondered and Emily nodded.

"They found a note in his safe that said he was finally going back to the only family that loved him. The four numbers that made up his combination spelled 'home'. The note and the antidote were the only two things in there."

Aaron sighed.

"Do you think they'll be okay?" he asked, looking at the boys once again. "After everything they've been through because of us?"

At that moment, Morgan impersonated Papa Bear letting out a humongous sneeze and both boys dissolved into giggles.

"I have no doubt," J.J. chuckled, and even though Hotch still had reservations – Joshua's words, as deluded by rage though they were, would continue to make him think for some time – he had to agree and smiled. What Morgan had told him the day before was true. There was too much love in this family, too much reliance on each other, for anyone to fall through the cracks and together they were more resilient than whatever gruesome images or horror stories crossed their paths at work or otherwise.

* * *

It took another three days before everyone was allowed to go home and Dave, fully recovered, drove Hotch and Jack back to their apartment.

"To bed," he said to Aaron as soon as the door had been locked behind them. Hotch didn't argue – he was still fighting a low grade fever and felt like he'd been put through the wringer three times over – and went to his bedroom. His bed was still unmade from when he had been taking care of Jack and he fell into it with an exhausted sigh. There were few things Hotch hated more than being sick but try as he might to fight it, his eyes began to drift closed.

Whether or not he went fully to sleep he didn't know but he was awoken by the sound of dishes rattling. Aaron opened his eyes, searching for the clock, but was met instead with the sight of Jack pushing a small tray onto his bedside table.

"What's that, buddy?" Aaron asked, noting Dave was hovering in the doorway.

"Lunch," Jack told him.

"You didn't have to do that, Jack."

"I know," said Jack simply. "I'm taking care of you, just like you took care of me."

Aaron smiled and sat up, propping his pillow behind his back.

"Well, Dr. Jack," he said. "What's your course of treatment?"

"We need to take your temperature and then you have to take your medicine."

Hotch accepted the thermometer from his son and handed it back to him when it beeped.

"What's it say, Jack?" Rossi asked, entering the room.

"Nine nine dot six."

The number in mind, Dave shook two Tylenol tablets from the bottle into his palm and then let Jack give them to Hotch.

"Thank you," Aaron said, swallowing them.

"And now you need to eat your lunch," Jack told his father. Food was still not Hotch's favourite thing but he ate as much as he could and then Jack decided he needed a nap.

"And what are you going to do?" Aaron asked Jack.

"Uncle Dave and me,"

"Uncle Dave and I," Hotch corrected.

"Uncle Dave and I are building Captain America a city from Lego. He has to protect it from Red Skull. He's trying to make it into a Hydra weapon factory."

"Very cool," sighed Hotch, stretching out again. "Thank you for lunch, Jack."

"You're welcome."

Jack ran off and Dave smiled at his friend.

"Sleep," he said. "I'll stay until you're better."

"Thanks, Dave," Aaron mumbled, already half asleep.

* * *

Three days later, everything was back to normal. Hotch was fully recovered and Jack was eager to go back to school. At work, the bullpen was lively and jokes were flying between the desks as they waited for their morning briefing.

* * *

Across town, David Rossi stood outside a hospital room, staring through the glass window in the door. On either side of the door was an armed police officer.

"He's nearly gone," a nurse told him, coming out of the room. "It won't be long now."

Dave nodded and once the nurse had walked away, pushed the door open. The room was dark and the only sound was slow beep of the heart monitor. Joshua Antonov looked to see who his visitor was.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, moving his hand slightly and causing the handcuffs to clink against the metal handrail.

"Showing you that the BAU is not what you think it is." Rossi said, draping his coat over the visitor's chair and sitting down. He pulled a key from his pocket and undid the handcuff.

Joshua looked at Rossi, rubbing his now-free wrist.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Rossi didn't respond and the room was silent until Joshua's eyes slid closed and the beeping of the monitor slowed and then eventually became a steady buzz.

As the nurse and doctor came in to declare their patient deceased, Rossi picked up his coat and left the hospital.

* * *

Aaron left his office, heading for the conference room, when he met Dave coming up the stairs.

"And?"

"Gone," Rossi answered. "About an hour ago."

Hotch nodded.

"Why him?" he asked curiously.

"Because I had to prove to him – or maybe to myself – that even after everything we see, all the messed up people and all the pain and suffering, there is still a shred of humanity somewhere inside all of us. I know what it is to be alone because of the BAU. I didn't want him to be alone."

Aaron nodded thoughtfully and both agents proceeded to the conference room for their next assignment. It was a grisly one, a serial rapist in Idaho.

"Wheels up in thirty," echoed around the table as everyone stood up.

In his office, while packing his briefcase, Hotch glanced at the photo of Jack on his desk. Impulsively, he pulled out his phone and dialled Jack's school.

The receptionist found Jack and put him on the phone.

"Daddy?"

"Hi Jack," Aaron said. "I just want you to know that I have to go away today but Mr. Will is going to pick you up from school. You're going to stay with him and Henry until I get home."

"I know, you told me this already."

Aaron smiled.

"I know I did. I'll call you before bedtime, okay?"

"Okay."

"I love you, Jack."

"I love you, too, Daddy."

Hotch hung up the phone and picked up his go bag.

"Everything alright?" Rossi asked as Hotch locked the door.

"Yes," Aaron answered. "Let's go."

**Your thoughts are very appreciated, thanks! **

**And that, my friends, concludes **_**Reliance and Resilience**_**. Sorry I couldn't get an epilogue in, things began wrapping up much quicker than I anticipated but I sincerely hope you enjoyed the story. In many ways, the story matches up with a lot of lessons I've learned over the past two years and I must thank you for sticking with the story for so long. There was an overwhelming sense of "coming home" to this piece of writing and I have you to thank for creating such an amazing fandom to foster such a feeling. **

**Happy reading and writing,**

**StoryLover18**


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